


Revealed

by Lebaas



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Awesome Michelle Jones, Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, College Student Peter Parker, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Loves Peter Parker, Everyone Needs A Hug, Field Trip, Flash Thompson Needs a Hug, Flash Thompson Redemption, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Irondad, Lowkey the whole school knows, May Parker remarries, Mentioned Flash Thompson, Morgan Stark and Peter Parker act like siblings, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Oblivious Peter Parker, POV Flash Thompson, Peter Parker Gets Shot, Peter Parker Gets Stabbed, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker babysits Morgan stark, Peter Parker can't save everyone, Peter Parker fluff, Peter Parker gets hurt again, Peter Parker guilt trip, Peter Parker has PTSD, Peter Parker injured again, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker is not as subtle as he thinks he is, Peter Parker sees a therapist, Peter Parker therapy, Peter Parker's Field Trip to Stark Industries, Peter Parkers school gets attacked, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Michelle Jones, Protective Tony Stark, Reveal, Social Media, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, Spider-Man Interacting with New Yorkers, Spiderman becomes rich, Spiderman is poor, Supportive May Parker (Spider-Man), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, World tries to help Spiderman, because I'm a sucker for that trope, chapter 10, chapter 2, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, decathlon knows, except it's the cabin and not stark industries, morgan and peter sibling like relationship, morgan has to help him, morgan has to stitch up peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24423877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lebaas/pseuds/Lebaas
Summary: Just a bunch of one-shots revealing how Peter Parker isn't your average high schooler.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 70
Kudos: 1705





	1. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker has a guilt complex and accidentally reveals his identity to the decathlon team.

Peter doubted any of his teammates noticed the blaring news channel in the corner of the gym. It’s constant chatter had long ago become a staple within decathlon practices and its position in the far corner was enough to make everyone forget its presence- everyone but Peter. Peter’s super hearing couldn’t help but take in every word the reporter uttered. 

Mr. Harrington kept asking review questions, the team kept practicing, Flash kept reading his magazine and the world kept turning. Yet, all that Peter could focus on was the clear-cutting voice of the news announcer as she summarized last night’s events. 

_“…the unfortunate death of Natalie Tailor, a seven-year old girl from queens. The Tailor family was attacked at 9pm last night by 6 escaped convicts from the Lincoln Correctional Facility. During the struggle one of the attackers, a man named Kyle Johnson, shot the young girl in her attempt to escape. A toxicology report claims that all 6 of these men had high doses of cocaine in their system during the time of the attack. Thanks to the help of our friendly, neighborhood Spiderman all 6 of those criminals are back behind bars. And yet, Mark Tailor, the little girl’s father, is claiming that without Spiderman, his daughter would still be alive.”_

_“They were only after our money. If Spiderman hadn’t shown up, the guns wouldn’t have been fired at all. It’s his fault that my little girl is just…”_

The power turned off and Peter realized that, while he had zoned out, MJ had stood up and walked over to the TV. 

We don’t need that thing bugging us while we’re working,” she stated before returning to her seat. 

“I can’t believe that Spiderman is slipping,” called out Brad as he walked into the room. The offhanded comment caused Peter to cringe inside. 

“He’s not slipping!” Flash replied in ferocity as he set aside his magazine. 

“Well, you heard the dad, Spiderman caused the criminals to attack,” Brad replied, trying to defend himself as he took his seat on the stage.

“You don’t know that that happened, Spiderman saved both of those parent’s lives and saved future people by putting those criminals back in prison!” 

“But the girl still died.” This time, it was Peter who spoke up and everyone looked confused. Peter barely spoke up in class, unless it was to answer a question. Yet, here he was- not only talking out loud, but also stating a pretty strong opinion. 

“The girl could’ve died anyway,” Flash replied indignantly

“Well, we won’t know that, will we?” Peter continued as Brad sunk into his seat across the table, “Because the little girl is dead and it’s all Spiderman’s fault.” 

“Spiderman is a hero who puts his life at risk every time he goes out on the street,” Flash shouted as he angrily stalked towards the stage. “He didn’t shoot that little girl.” 

“He may as well have!” 

“Well, he didn’t. Spiderman is not responsible for the actions of other people, especially not criminals.” 

“Well, he’s responsible for his own actions and it’s Spiderman’s fault that he didn’t see the 6th criminal in the shadows. He should have been more observant. If he would’ve noticed, that little girl would still be alive.” 

“Stop talking about what-ifs. Spiderman saves lives. Period. End of story.” 

“Not end of story. The story ends when you realize that the little girl is dead, and your hero is just a fraud in a skintight suit.”

“My hero has a dope suit and he has saved plenty of others in the past.” By now Flash was at Peter’s side and yelling right above his chair. 

“He didn’t save this one!” 

“Fine, maybe he didn’t. But at least the little girl died fast then.” 

“She didn’t die fast you idiot. She died slowly as the blood drained from her wound.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“She died as her parents were cradling her in their arms and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I couldn’t...” Peter cracked and bent over in his chair. 

The room went silent as everyone began to take in Peter’s statement. Flash looked bewildered, Susie Anne suddenly realized that Peter’s disappearances were not because he was a male escort, Brad realized that the hero he had picked on was the boy sitting beside him, Ned looked petrified, and the room seemed to be undergoing all stages of shock at once. 

MJ was the first to recover. She sighed and walked up to Peter. She pulled up a chair and winced as it squeaked mercilessly in the silence. She sat tentatively beside her boyfriend, putting her arms around him as he wept. 

“You’re not Spiderman,” Flash stated dumbly as he looked down on the face that was his hero. 

Peter didn’t move, but MJ simply looked up and gave Flash the most disapproving and predatory look she could manage- which was quite a stare- before returning to stroking Peter’s hair. 

“You’re not Spiderman,” Flash stated again indignantly.

The room was still quiet, and Mr. Harrington finally seemed to snap out of his reverie and walked up to the stage. Whether he was going to comfort a grieving student or give him over to the authorities, even he didn’t know. 

“You’re not Spiderman,” Flash stated for a third time. “Spiderman is a witty hero who stands up for the innocent and looks after the neighborhood. Spiderman flies around town and is awesome and cool and…” 

“And what, Flash,” Peter yelled as he swiftly stood to counter his childhood bully. “And what?” 

It was only then that the class truly understood the height of Peter Parker. He had always slouched in his seats or hid under hoodies. Peter never really stood as confidently as he did now. So, in that moment, as Peter stood intimidatingly over Flash, the class got a glance under the persona of their shy classmate. They glanced the Spiderman. 

“Spiderman can’t be you,” Flash replied in a tone much meeker than before. As if he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to state a fact. 

“You’re right. Spiderman can’t be me,” Peter gasped out with eyes still red from tears, “because I’m a screw up, a loser, a mess up, an idiot and a no one. Spiderman is supposed to be this hero who saves people, but I lost the little girl, I lost Mr. Stark, and I…” 

“And you saved us in Washington,” MJ interjected as she could no longer stand seeing her confident and goofy boyfriend beat himself up like this. 

“And you saved Liz’s dad from the flames even after he tried to kill you,” Ned piped, remembering back on Peter’s countless stories throughout their friendship. 

“You fought Thanos even before you blipped,” MJ continued as she thought back on the most astounding moments from Peter’s personal accounts, “and you held the gauntlet itself as you saved the world in the Battle for Earth.”

“You save about a person a school night and around 3 a night on the weekends,” Ned spoke up as the math geek in him came out. He had never intended for Peter to know he was keeping tabs on his saves, but as Ned lived vicariously through his friend’s stories, he kept a close account of Peter’s accomplishments. 

“She died because of me,” Peter replied in a shaky voice, but the fact that he was still on his feet meant something. 

“So, make sure it doesn’t happen again,” MJ stated practically. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a hero, just means you still have more to learn. It just means you have to be better.” 

With that statement Peter flashed back to his first open and public mistake as Spiderman. He had been trying to catch vulture and, in the process, had nearly destroyed a cargo ship full of people. Mr. Stark had been there to save the day but, without Ironman, hundreds of people would have died. 

_“I just want to be like you,” Peter had blurted out once his mentor had finished cleaning up his mess._

_“And I want you to be better.”_

Better. Peter realized he would never be perfect, there was no such thing. And yet, if Peter could continue working. Maybe, just maybe, he could become better. He needed to continue saving more lives than he lost, and he needed to keep trying. 

So, when Peter finally glanced up from the floor that had held his attention for so long, he was filled with a newfound vigor. A newfound hope. And he was going to need it as he looked out over the damage he had caused.

Two minutes ago he had blurted out his secret identity. 

“So, um, hi,” Peter said with a small wave, as if he were addressing his teammates for the first time- and in a way, he was. 

It was then that Peter noticed Brad backing towards the cardboard box in the corner of the room. Peter had never been so thankful for Mr. Harrington’s no phone policy. Mr. Harrington had realized the distractions phones were and, as he could never tell if students were cheating or texting, he decided that said box would hold all of their phones during the practice sessions. 

Peter quickly tapped his wrists together so that his web launchers activated, and he shot an upwards grenade web at all 4 corners of the box. Therefore, when the phone box was pulled upward, it rested haphazardly onto the ceiling as if the box were cradled in a hammock on the ceiling. 

The team all seemed to glance between Peter and the webs now hanging from the ceiling. If there was a question in anyone’s minds about the identity of the masked spider, that question was cleared away now. 

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had never been good at public speaking, but he couldn’t freeze up now. For better or for worse, these were his teammates, and he needed their help.

“So, I know there’s nothing I can do to make you all keep my secret. But I really just want to graduate high school. I want to stay in Queens with Aunt May and I want to keep being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman. If the world finds out who I am they might say my powers are too much for a 16-year-old, so I’d be pulled away for experimentation. They might also decide to place me with the Avengers, which would be cool and I’m probably going to join them after graduation, but that would mean I have to leave my school, my family, and my city. 

“My enemies might also go after those that I care about and I don’t want my family or friends to get hurt because of my actions. That’s not fair to them. So, I’m asking you to please keep this a secret. I know that I messed up yesterday but MJ’s right. I can do better and I will do better. Please, just give me a chance.” 

“Plus,” MJ continued in a bored tone, “we’re his teammates and classmates. So, if anyone figure’s out Peter’s identity we’re the ones who will be targeted and killed.” 

“Yeah,” Ned continued in an overly excited and yet panicked tone, “I mean, when Peter was fighting those projection elementals in Europe, the bad guy figured out his identity and started to target our trip. We were purposefully moved to all the battle points and the bad guys even tried to put us in the kill zone!” 

“That’s not possible,” Mr. Harrington replied in a slightly panicked tone as his mind was whirring to process the word vomit that had just escaped Ned’s lips. “We were upgraded.” 

“Upgraded by Mr. Fury so that I would help fight,” explained Peter as the team looked at him in panic.“But I made sure that you were all far away from the action in the opera house when everything went down. And the one in London wasn’t supposed to happen. I had just gotten run over by a train in Denmark so I didn’t know what was going on and it won’t ever happen again because I killed Beck before he could obliterate the city.” 

“Who’s Beck?” Yasmin asked in a deceivingly calm tone. 

“Mysterio,” Peter replied. “He wanted to take over the world, so he pretended to be a hero. Then he created destruction in order to be the one who pretended to fix it.”

Yasmin nodded decisively, taking all of Peter’s information in stride before announcing, “Of course I’ll keep your secret. The world was hectic after the blip happened and people just started taking whatever they wanted. The world was a scary place, and no one was really able to stop the panic of the city. But, after Spiderman blipped back, crime dropped. I feel safe when I have to walk home from school. So of course I’ll keep your secret Peter. And thank you.” 

“Spiderman saved my cousin’s life a couple months ago. So, I’ll keep your secret Peter,” Zoha said as she smiled gratefully at him. 

“You’re a cool dude Peter. I’ll keep your secret,” Josh replied. 

Brad agreed with Yasmin, Zach agreed to keep tight lips, Susie Anne was glad that Peter was more moral that she gave him credit for, and even Mr. Harrison said that he wouldn’t tell the authorities- though he highly suggested Peter get help and gave Peter the number of his personal therapist. 

Finally, Flash was the only one in the room who hadn’t agreed. He just continued to glare at Peter in a manner that was both furious and uncomprehending. It was as if Peter had done some unspeakably awful thing by admitting his identity. And yet, after a time of silent expectation, Flash commented, “I could never do anything to harm Spiderman,” and his face broke into a smile. “So, can I see your webs? Are they a part of you? Do they ever run out? How do you create them?” And loads more questions that Peter could only smile at. It was if Flash had turned into a second Ned and was intrigued to learn all there is to know about his favorite superhero. 

Peter started answering them in a bewildered fashion as he made his way to where their phones hung from the ceiling. Peter expected he would never get used to a nonabrasive Flash. And he definitely wouldn’t get used to Flash calling him by his name as opposed to whatever cruel nickname the bully deemed appropriate.

And, as Peter crawled onto the ceiling to take the phones down, he felt a sense of relief. Sure, having his teammates know may be a little reckless, but having their support meant the world to Peter. He promised that, somehow, he was going to prove himself worthy of their secrecy. He would keep getting better and better and really, that’s the best anyone can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love goes out to @rapidasher for her grammar skills with this baby. Couldn't have done it without her.
> 
> Edited on Jan 2, 2020


	2. Stark's Cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker takes a school trip to the Stark Cabin- a cabin that he lived in for 3 months. It's super sappy and filled with a little bit of PTSD. My spin on the field trip trope. 
> 
> Edited on Jan 2, 2020

"How much longer, Flash?" Betty questioned for the twenty-first time in their four-hour bus trip. 

"We're almost there," the teen exclaimed, though his attention stayed fixed on his vlogging camera. "Just a few more minutes, actually. For those of you who don't know I, ya boy Flash T, am taking my class on an all-expenses paid, surprise field trip. That's right, I'm caring with my big bucks and I help those who are less fortunate."

"Or you're a serial killer who kidnaps unsuspecting school kids," whispered MJ as she burrowed deeper into Peter's shoulder. She had given up reading and hadn't resisted when Peter had draped his arm around his new girlfriend.

Peter chuckled. "It wouldn't surprise me," he whispered back, "He's even managed to knock half the bus unconscious by forcing us to leave so early."

"Are you trying to imply that I'm susceptible to attack right now?” MJ mumbled with her eyes still closed. "Because I can assure you that I'm ready for anything."

"You sure sound like it," he bantered back.  
.  
"Well, that's just because I'm putting my superhero boyfriend to the test."

"I'm right here," he assured her as a grin spread across his face.  
.  
"At least I'm doing better than Ned," MJ continued in a slight attempt to defend herself. "He's been passed out ever since he sat down."

"Ned has a talent for doing that," Peter remarked as MJ frowned. Both of them knew that Peter had been watching Ned sleep a lot lately, and not in a weird way. Peter had been suffering from insomnia ever since the battle against Thanos and even worse after Europe. Aunt May had tried to see if a friend’s presence allowed him to feel safe enough to sleep, and while it helped a bit, it still couldn't give him a full night's rest.

All he could think about were the what ifs. What if he'd fought harder to get across the field of Thanos' army? What if he'd accepted Tony's offer to fight alongside him earlier? What if he'd managed to fight Thanos alongside Tony? What if he hadn't managed to stop Mysterio and was, therefore, the cause of the world's destruction? What if….

"Wake up, guys, and look out the window," Flash announced loud enough that MJ and the other tired members of the decathlon team were forced to rise in their seats and look out the side of the bus. 

What they saw didn’t seem so surprising at first glance. There were hundreds of trees- just like there had been for the last hour- and there was a lake off to the side- just like they had been passing for the last 15 minutes. The only difference was a small, log cabin that almost seemed to blend into the surrounding forest. 

"Holy crap," exclaimed Brad as he sat bolt upright in his seat and looked out the window. There were a few other students who looked equally as impressed, however, a good portion of Peter’s class remained oblivious. These students were the ones who had been blipped. They had not witnessed Tony Stark’s seclusion nor had they seen the new articles revolving said cabin.

"After the blip occurred," started Flash as he held his go-pro out the window, "Mr. Stark decided to retire from the superhero life and settle down. He bought a butt ton of land and built a cabin smack-dab in the center. Pepper Stark doesn't want it anymore, so she sold it to Thompson and Thompson's. Now my mother is in charge of turning this cabin into a museum. And since this place needs to be cleaned before opening anyways, my mom is letting us live in it for the weekend."

At that, the class temporarily forgot their exhaustion and there were screams of exhilaration heard from all over the bus.

"And just so you know," Mr. Harrison continued as he stood up from his seat in the front of the bus, "every item in this place has been catalogued, so don't you even think about taking a screw. Your parents have been briefed on this and they are all aware that you will get sued millions of dollars if you take anything. They have all allowed you to go on this trip because they assured me you are responsible and fully capable of this type of responsibility."

Mr. Harrison's speech would have almost been moving if Peter's super hearing hadn't picked up his mumbled, "Don't blow it," as he walked off of the bus and took out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat. 

The students all stood in unified chaos as they scrambled to gather their belongings and follow their teacher; putting away their pillows and tech as fast as humanly possible. Peter, on the other hand, was frozen.

"Peter?" Ned asked in a tone that only a best friend could decipher. In that single word Ned expressed his elation, while also expressing how he understood how hard this trip must be for Peter and how he was willing to wait.

Ned was the only one who knew how, when Peter and Aunt May had blipped back into existence, someone else had been living in their apartment. Ned was the only one who knew that the Parkers had been homeless during the few months it took to locate and sort out the paperwork for their current apartment. Ned was the only one who knew that, during this time, Pepper had opened up her doors and Peter- along with his Aunt- had moved to this very cabin. So, Ned was the only one who realized Peter's shock wasn't elation.

"I'm good," Peter quickly whispered back, "I lived here for 3 months, remember. I can handle this."

MJ looked up at him quizzically. They had been dating for a few weeks now, but he hadn't managed to tell her everything yet. "They helped us get back on our feet after the blip," he explained quickly. 

"Ok, good," Ned continued as MJ nodded her acceptance, "because I'm freaking out, this is Tony Stark's house! The place where he lived and breathed and ate and peed and..."

"Whoooo!" Peter laughed as he stood up to follow his class outside. "I do not need to think about Mr. Stark peeing!"

"Come on, Dickwad," Flash yelled as Peter slowly walked out the door. "Take your camping gear and join Mr. H on the back lawn."

Peter ignored the comment and, instead, focused his attention to acting as if the heavy backpack was difficult to carry. 

MJ took his hand. Maybe this wouldn’t be the worst weekend after all. 

May was right, he needed to move on. This would be a good first step. He could no longer ignore May’s sidelong, worried glances. He could no longer stand the constant, sleepless nights. Peter knew he had to face his demons head on; this trip was an ideal way to do so. May had been right to send him here, he was going to make the best of it. 

So, as he walked past the cabin and toward the empty clearing where the team would be sleeping tonight, he was determined to think only of his adventures with Morgan on this lawn. He would not think about the funeral for his mentor that also occurred on this very grass. He wouldn’t think about it once. 

\--------------

"Peter!" Betty called loudly, announcing that this wasn't the first time they had tried to get his attention.

"What?!" he answered, bewildered.

"We're starting practice," she responded politely.  
.  
"Yeah, dickwad," Flash chorused, "kind of the point of this whole trip."

"Practice, right, what was the question again?"

"The average human body contains how many pints of blood?" MJ rattled off while looking at him skeptically. MJ knew about him being Spiderman, sure. But he hadn't exactly spilled the beans on how close he was with the Stark family.

"10?" Peter questioned as his team had no better guesses.

"9," MJ responded with her neutral mask firmly in place.

"Hg is the chemical symbol of what element?"

The practice continued. Yet, Peter couldn't help his gaze from occasionally shifting back towards the lake. The lake that, somewhere, held the only remains of his mentor and father-figure, Tony Stark.

\----------

By the third and final day Peter was starting to get ahold of himself. The group had pitched their tents, played in the lake, gone on hikes through the woods, explored Morgan's newly emptied out playhouse, and practiced galore. He had even caught himself having a good time around the campfire last night.

It helped that Mr. Harrison hadn't let them inside the cabin yet. He was terrified one of the students would touch and break something valuable and must have signed some pretty extensive 'don't break anything' documents for the number of lectures they got per day.

However, Peter knew his luck would only extend so far. The gossip around the breakfast campfire was that today was the day students were permitted inside the cabin.

"I bet it's not actually as small as it seems," Betty pondered as she glanced over at the cabin.

"I bet Tony's AI is set up inside the cabin and everything is voice command operated," put in another inquisitive student.

"Nah, they wouldn't have kept that kind of tech in a post-superhero cabin. I bet the AI is more like a glorified Alexa. Just someone who can answer questions."

"Do you think we'll be allowed to take pictures?"

"I want a selfie in Mr. Stark's bedroom!"

"And I," announced Mr. Harrison in a worried expression as he came out of his tent, "would like to not be sued for millions of dollars. I understand that Mrs. Thompson is a huge donor to Midtown High and that she desires to share this with us before it's a museum. Especially after the awful European trip you all were a part of, but I am only allowing you children the minimum. We will enter the cabin in 3 hours, explore, cook lunch there, eat lunch there, relax for an hour, then we will leave. You can tell your parents that you spent a day in the Stark household, and I can tell my boss that we didn't destroy it."

"Mr. Harrison," Flash announced as he raised his hand cockily, "My mother's intentions were for us to spend an entire day within the cabin."

"Yeah, and my intention is to not get fired," Mr. Harrison retorted before taking a bite of his pancakes.

Flash rolled his eyes in response and returned back to bragging with his friends, obviously picking his battles.

The 3 hours passed in what felt like 3 seconds and soon Peter was reentering his old home. The furniture was still in its same position and the door still creaked like it always did when he entered. There were still dishes in the glass display case and the hum of FRIDAY was still audible. To the untrained eye, it felt lived in.

Peter knew better. The book Pepper was working on wasn't sitting on the coffee table, and Morgan's toys were not present in her toy corner. The room smelled of fresh cleaning supplies instead of morning coffee and the pictures had all been removed.

No matter how off it felt to Peter, the class was awed as they took in the scene. Sure, they had all peeped in through the windows, but to be standing inside the cabin itself was a bit overwhelming. They stood there for who knows how long, each being afraid to ruin the moment. 

After a few minutes, MJ shattered the reverent silence and declared, "I'm going to the bathroom."

"Up the stairs on the left," Mr. Harrison called, as MJ continued her trek through the cabin. Mr. Harrison sighed and continued, "You all have 30 minutes to explore the house. I will start cooking lunch and whoever wishes to can help me."

"Dude," Ned leaned over as everyone started talking amongst themselves, "Show me everything."

"Well, let's start in my room," Peter responded as calmly as he could, but Ned's excited giggle caused a smile to reach even Peter's face.

"All the bedrooms are upstairs, so you go first."

"Did Mr. Stark sleep up there, too?" Ned giddily questioned as he hopped up the steps and trailed his hand along the railing.

"Yeah, he slept in the master bedroom with Pepper," Peter responded.  
.  
"Did Morgan sleep with them?"

"No, she slept in her own room across the hall."

"Do all the rooms have the AI?"

"Yeah, dude, FRIDAY's a part of this house."

"So cool! Is Tony Stark's suit here?"

"I'm not quite sure. It wouldn't surprise me, but Mr. Stark kind of left his hero life behind when he came to live here. So, I think Pepper would've said no."

"Wait? Isn't Pepper the new iron man now, though? Or iron woman, I guess."

"I guess so," Peter chuckled as he reached the top of the stairs. "That's why she moved away. But she only uses the suit as a last resort. She's mainly focusing on Morgan and which school to send her to right now."

"Is Morgan super smart like her dad?"

"She's super smart. Though she is only 6 so who really knows?”

"Wait, so is she going to kindergarten then? Or is she skipping straight to college?" Ned continued, hands flailing about in excitement when…

CRASH

The cabin went silent as Peter and Ned looked down the steps to see how a vase had just been pushed over the railing and had shattered into a million pieces. The entire student body seemed to gather as they all gazed at the remains of the vase.

Ned stared at the vase in shock before worriedly looking to Peter for guidance. Flash started cackling relentlessly. MJ made worried eye contact with Peter and waited silently at the top of the stairs. Betty started audibly coming up with ways to fix it. Mr. Harrison's breathing accelerated to the point of hysteria and Peter-- Peter was the only one who remained calm. After living in the house for 3 months Peter knew that FRIDAY was, in fact, able to piece together broken vases. This very thing had happened on many occasions when Peter was over- due to Morgan's antics.

In all the chaos, no one noticed as Peter walked down the stairs to the living room coffee table, FRIDAY's base of operations. If it were anyone else Peter wouldn't have cared. But this was Ned, and Ned needed him. So, Peter flipped the switch.

"Welcome home, Peter," FRIDAY chimed in her annoyingly perky tone.

The room went silent, everyone now staring at him.

"Hey, FRIDAY," Peter responded while the system started its boot up process. Blue projections appeared on the surface of the table.

"There seem to be a group of unregistered people in the cabin. Would you like me to activate program name, 'Leave Me the Hell Alone'?"

"That won't be necessary, FRIDAY," Peter responded. "I was actually wondering if you could fix the vase in the kitchen. A friend of mine dropped it on accident and it shattered."

"Of course, Peter," FRIDAY replied as two floorboards in the kitchen slid open to reveal robotic claws that were equipped with super glue. The claws whirred and moved, scanning each piece of the vase in a graphical blue projection then placing it back in its proper place. Once each piece was set the claws shone a red laser beam over the cracks until they virtually disappeared. FRIDAY then put the vase back on the top shelf where it belonged, the robotic arms disappearing back underneath the floorboards.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, Peter?" FRIDAY chirped.  
.  
"That'll be all FRIDAY, thanks!" Peter replied and the projections that had occupied the coffee table disappeared.

The class continued to look at him in shock. Flash's mouth may have even been hanging open a little. MJ smirked in the corner.

"I told you all I had the Stark internship," Peter shrugged before walking back into the kitchen to help with lunch. 

He may not be all right just yet, but the shocked faces of his friends had done wonders to help him associate this house with life again. So maybe, just maybe, this trip was a success.


	3. Babysitting Morgan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Peter Parker, Wednesday nights mean spending time with his pseudo younger sister. But what happens when Flash finds out?

Peter loved the days that he babysat Morgan Stark. 

It had started accidently; Peter had visited the Stark’s home to borrow one of Tony’s tools and had run headlong into a panic-stricken Pepper Potts. Morgan’s long-term nanny had suddenly gone on maternity leave, and Pepper’s frantic searching for a replacement hadn’t yielded any immediate results. 

“Peter!” Pepper had exclaimed in an overly excited tone as she saw Peter walk through the front door. Peter had halted in his tracks; positive he was going to be called out for stealing. Sure, he had been working in Mr. Stark’s unused lab for over three months, and sure Happy had been the one to suggest using these tools, but that didn’t change the fact that Peter always felt like he was overstaying his welcome and messing up Tony’s memory. 

“Peter,” Pepper stated again, this time with the calming tone that one uses to confront a deer caught in the headlights. “I have a meeting downstairs in 5 minutes, and I can’t take Morgan with me again. I’ve been trying to get a hold of nannies all day but none of them are available. Will you please watch her for a few hours?” 

Of course, Peter had agreed. Pepper had run off with hardly a passing glance to him. She’d kissed Morgan on the cheek, directed him to instructions on the counter, and walked off. The sound of her clicking heels slowly receding as she headed towards the elevator 

The first few minutes involved Peter and Morgan just staring at each other, unsure of what to make of the other. Though, once Morgan exclaimed that she wanted to watch a show, the tension had eased drastically. After all, the show was one that Peter had watched religiously as a kid. They’d made popcorn and gotten all of Morgan’s stuffed animals from her room before starting the movie, talking all the while. Then, once the show started, Peter may have accidentally become more invested than Morgan. He would yell loudly when a character did something stupid and hide his head under his blanket when something too embarrassing occurred.

Morgan had giggled relentlessly and had imitated his hiding whenever it had occurred. This hiding led to some extreme fort making and, by the time Pepper got home from her long day of meetings, she’d found Peter and Morgan curled together under a mega blanket fort that took up the entire living room and could have only been made by the brilliant mind that was Peter Parker. 

Pepper had smiled when Peter had groggily lifted his head, she even went as far as to chuckle when Peter tried to refuse her pay.

From that moment on, Peter was invited to the Stark household once a week. It hadn’t ever been made official, but Peter always got a message from Pepper asking him to babysit on Wednesday nights. Then, at some point over the past year, the texts had stopped being necessary and Peter was simply a weekly fixture in the Stark household. 

The best part was that Peter thoroughly enjoyed his time with Morgan. They’d done arts and crafts together, often getting more paint and glue on each other than on the paper, and had played hide and seek together, which is always an adventure when you can stick to the ceiling. Peter had helped Morgan with her crazy advanced homework, and she had helped him make modifications to his suit. Peter had even played princess dress up with Morgan, though he would never admit this to his friends.

So here he was today, playing a card game with his pseudo younger sister, waiting for Pepper to be done with her meetings. She had claimed to be seeing some lawyers and politicians today, and Peter did not envy her at all. 

Just then, Morgan drew the exact card that she needed, and her eyes lit up the way only a kid’s eyes could. She and Peter had been neck and neck up until this moment and this card brought the little girl over the edge. She stood up and started doing a happy little dance that should’ve looked egotistical, but in reality, was just Morgan’s way of expressing her joy. Peter knew that she would’ve stood up and been just as excited had Peter been the one to draw the winning card and not her. 

And yet, Peter couldn’t let Morgan dance in his face like that. So, he did what any self-respecting teenager would do in that position. He stood up, and tackled Morgan to the ground. She squealed and began to giggle relentlessly as Peter started tickling all over her body, scrunching up her face as she attempted to push him off of her. 

\------------------------------------------------

Flash couldn’t believe he was here. This was the Stark Industries lab, temporary home of the Stark family themselves, and where Tony had created all of his amazing equipment. He was going to work here someday, no matter what his parents said, he was going to prove them wrong. He was going to be somebody someday, just they wait and see. 

His mother had been invited to meet with Pepper Potts and, after a lecture and a half, she had allowed him to come along. This was his opportunity to charm the employers, to make connections, to let him see his beautiful, marketable face before he graduated. It was his time to shine. 

Flash walked into the elevator as soon as his mother had closed the door to their meeting room. She hadn’t introduced him to the CEO yet, but he was sure she would soon. For now, he had to make the most of his two-hour opportunity to roam the premises. His mother was always punctual with her time and would finish precisely at 5pm, so Flash just had to make sure he was the patient and dutiful son when that time rolled around. 

Flash opened up his Instagram as the elevator doors closed and started taking him to the top floor. He would go top down and hit as many floors as he could, impressing as many people as he could, and he figured the top was the best place to start. 

“What’s up everyone it’s ya boy big F coming to you from Stark Industries. I’m currently heading to the top floor where some bigshot businessmen are waiting, ready to take my first step into the big world of marketing. I’m no mama’s boy waiting for opportunities to be handed to me, I’m a go getter who’s in it to win it baby, just you wait and see.”

And at that, the elevator dinged its resounding signal to indicate that they had reached the top floor. 

“Hello,” a feminine voice called from over the speakers. “This door is currently locked, have you been granted access?” and, although Flash was sure that an AI producing any emotion was unlikely, the voice sounded snarky.

“No,” Flash replied in the most confident tone he could muster, “Just ring the doorbell, I’m sure someone will answer.” 

\----------------------------------------------------

Morgan’s laughter was cut off mid giggle as a strange sound emanated from Friday’s speakers. 

“What’s going on Friday?” Peter asked, quickly analyzing the situation as he shifted his position of innocent attacker, to a fierce protector in a matter of seconds. Ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead and shifting Morgan so that she was behind him with her back to the wall. 

“An unknown figure is waiting in the elevator,” Friday replied in an unnervingly neutral tone, “Do you want to let him in?” 

“What, no, I mean, just, just let me see who it is,” Peter stuttered as he broke his protective pose to stand up straight, realizing his fears were unfounded. 

Peter looked toward the wall just as Friday projected the image of a short, dark haired boy in their elevator, talking animatedly to his phone and unaware that he was being monitored. “Flash?” Peter voiced in a confused tone as his features scrunched up. 

“Ith that one of youw clathmateth?” Morgan asked in fascination as she had never gotten to interact with Peter’s life outside of her home. Peter smiled as his attention was drawn away from Friday, Morgan’s lisp had mostly faded through time and correction, but occasionally, when she was excited, it made its way back into her sentences. 

“Yes,” Peter responded. Too late realizing his mistake, Friday had been asking him if she should open the elevator, and he had just affirmed. 

“Wait!” Peter quickly exclaimed as the elevator doors opened up to reveal a still vlogging Flash Thomson, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no” Peter muttered as he frantically looked around for a place to hide. 

Just then, Flash panned his phone up and Peter's childhood bully got a clear view of where he was.

"Yo, check it out flashmob, we just got into the Stark family’s private home. I told you I had connections. This place is so sick, I mean just look at all this ..." And at that moment Peter Parker appeared in Flash's room pan and the vlogger glanced up from his phone to truly affirm what his screen was showing. 

“Peter?” Flash exclaimed in a dumbfounded tone as he abandoned his phone and it fell to the carpet with a resounding thud.

Morgan giggled and shyly grabbed onto Peter's free hand as her visitor stood there in mute confusion. 

“Hey,” Peter responded with an awkward just wave. 

“Peter Parker?” Flash asked again, as if his brain couldn’t comprehend the reality that his eyes were betraying. 

“That’s me,” Peter responded again as a tug on his arm prompted him to look down into the innocent, smiling face of his younger sister, “And this is Morgan Stark.” 

“Morgan Stark, holy crap no way!”, Flash gasped as he walked towards the younger girl and knelt down to his knees, so he was eye level with Tony’s daughter, “My name’s Flash Thompson, and I’m a huge fan of your dad!” 

Morgan’s expression crumpled up into confusion as she glanced up at Peter. 

Peter’s gut reaction caused his expression to temporarily cloud with loss, though he did his best to quickly put on a comforting smile for this young girl. While Peter knew the reason behind the gaping hole in his chest, Morgan did not. Her young brain couldn’t comprehend why her father couldn’t be there for her ballet recital and was confused when he couldn’t pick her up from school. The fact that this teen was making reference to a man that she had been continuously told was gone was perplexing. Peter’s thumb rubbed across the young girl’s hand as it was still interlocked with his for support. 

“Morgan’s dad is gone right now, but I’m a huge fan of Morgan. Her pillow fort blueprints are outstanding and we’re just making a batch of the world’s best cookies if you want some.” 

Peter knew inviting Flash to stay was a bad idea, but he wanted to distract Morgan. Their timer was also scheduled to go off in 20 seconds and he couldn’t afford to burn them again. 

“I’d love a cookie!” Flash exclaimed without ever turning his attention off of the little celebrity before him. 

Morgan smiled happily as she rushed off into the kitchen. She threw her batter splattered apron over her head and waited impatiently by the oven as the two older teens trailed slowly behind, “Come on, Peter!” she shouted impatiently from her post beside the oven. 

It was with that exclamation that Flash finally seemed to remember Peter’s existence. He glanced between Morgan and Peter several times as Morgan handed her caretaker a similarly spattered pink apron and a set of oven mitts. 

“Thank you, Morgan,” Peter replied as he prepped to open up the oven, “If you wouldn’t mind grabbing some plates for us, I would really appreciate it.” 

Morgan nodded dutifully as she started her walk towards the cupboards on the opposite side of the room. Peter knew that this would give him a chance to open up the hot oven without worrying about a curious child sticking her head in and getting burnt. Though Peter knew that, even with this new task, Morgan’s full attention would be on the slightly malformed cookies that Peter was pulling out of the oven. 

“So how do you know Peter?” questioned Flash in a tone that Peter knew was anything but casual. 

“He’s my big brother,” responded Morgan in a friendly tone that made Peter’s heart gush. 

“He’s your big brother?” Flash responded again in disbelief. 

“Uh huh, my dad worked with him a lot and now he comes to play with me all the time!” 

“How did he know your dad?” 

“Cookies are ready!” Peter quickly interjected as he set the tray on the stovetop and placed a spatula under a particularly gooey cookie- he knew that they were Morgan’s favorite- and walked over to the counter where she was sitting. He plopped it onto her extended plate and chuckled as her eyes lit up. 

“YAY!” She exclaimed quickly before showing off the cookie to Flash, her newfound best friend. “We added too much sugar on purpose!” she confided. 

“That’s pretty exciting.” 

“Yeah! And Peter said we can eat all but one, because we have to save at least one for mommy.” 

“That makes sense” 

“Do you want to save one for your mommy too?” 

“No. My mommy doesn’t eat sweets, it’s not worth the calories for her.” 

“Well then, you can eat her cookie too!” 

Taking his cue from the little girl, chef Peter (according to his apron) walked over and placed another cookie on Flash’s plate, “Feel free to eat them both,” Peter joked as he plopped another bite of warm cookie into his own mouth. If anyone had been keeping count, they would have surely noticed Peter’s massive food consumption. He had already consumed about half a dozen cookies worth in dough and now he was devouring his third cookie in the few seconds the cookies had been out of the oven. Sure, his mouth was on fire, but the sweetness of homemade cookies was worth the pain. 

“Thanks,” Flash replied shakily, and the day continued on in that style. The three conversed easily amongst each other and joked about how good the cookies were. Morgan taught them all how to sing her favorite song and Flash showed the Stark family how to whistle with your thumbs. The oldest two boys never quite exposed their rocky history with each other, and Morgan never seemed to notice when Flash accidently started calling Peter by his school name- Penis- or when Peter gave Flash questioning glances from time to time. 

After an hour and a half or so, Flash politely excused himself from their company and told Morgan to follow him on Instagram. Morgan simply smiled and said that she would as soon as she got one, because he was Peter’s super cool friend. 

Flash walked back to the elevator door, stopping on the way to pick up his discarded phone, knowing that these few hours spent with Morgan and Peter had been the longest he had gone without it in months. He awkwardly waved at the two as they left to start cleaning up their mess in the kitchen. He trudged back into the elevator in a slightly dejected manner, even though he himself was the one who was leaving. Flash couldn’t help but think that what he just experienced was what a family was supposed to feel like. 

They were supposed to laugh alongside one another and support one another. They were supposed to make way too sugary desserts and sing offkey for fun. Instead, he was about to return to the same salad he ate for lunch every day, across from a mother who was in a video conference with work associates. A mother who wouldn’t even follow him on social media until it benefited her campaigns. 

With a final sigh Flash glanced down toward his phone, only to realize that his Instagram live feed was still going. His phone had landed on a slight tilt in the lush carpet within the Stark family home, and the view into the kitchen couldn’t have been better if he’d tried. 

Flash knew he should be proud that all the people online now knew he was friends with a celebrity. Maybe even two celebrities if Morgan’s claims about Peter’s closeness to the Stark family had been true. But all he could think about was the fact that he now had proof of a time that he was truly happy. So, instead of replying to the thousands of comments he currently had, or turning the camera towards himself, he simply turned off the live feed and stuck his warm phone back in his pocket. 

Flash knew that he would see Peter again in school tomorrow and maybe, just maybe, he would be a bit less of a dick to the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited on Jan 2, 2020


	4. Peter's Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Morgan squared her shoulders. This time, she would be the one to save someone. If she didn’t do something, Peter was going to die..."

**Peter's Hero**

\-------------------------------------------

_Warning: Graphic and angst ahead_

\-------------------------------------------

The Avengers tower shone like a beacon as Peter haphazardly swung himself above the crowded streets of New York. Peter’s vision was getting darker around the edges and, while he wished he could blame this on the dark evening, he knew it was a sign of copious blood loss. The night sky pushed down on him like a looming figure and the lights of the sleepless city seemed powerless to stop it. His pain was like a living creature that burned inside him, slinking through his body like a fiery snake. He remembered now that being shot hurt. It had been so long that he seemed to have forgotten the pain.

Peter hadn’t gotten this hurt in a fight since high school. He was now twenty years old with five years of crime fighting under his belt that normally made for an injury free patrol. Yet, it made statistical sense that Peter couldn’t dodge every bullet shot at him. Eventually, a night like this was bound to happen-, especially since Peter had been outnumbered ten to one. 

He needed to get to the Stark family’s sterilized hospital room before he lost more blood or before his wounds started to close around the bullets. Peter was glad that Pepper had forced Mr. Stark to build this room--he was also glad that she had opened its doors to her ward. Peter couldn’t count the amount of times he’d snuck in to stitch himself up or disinfect an injury. 

By the time he arrived on the tower’s roof Peter was so lightheaded that he was forced to hold onto the railing while walking down the steps. He stumbled through the front door and slumped against the wall, his vision getting darker and fuzzier. At this rate, he wouldn’t even make it to the med room before the excessive hemorrhaging would cause him to black out, making him collapse like a marionette whose strings were cut. Walking unsteadily, he headed in what he thought was the right direction, his steps getting weaker and weaker. The final straw was an ill-placed rug that caused him to stumble and fall to the ground.

This was it. Peter could see the red stain growing around him as his traitorous heart pushed more and more blood out of his body with every beat. He tried to look around, but realized he could no longer make out solid lines or shapes as his vision faded. In fact, he didn’t even hear as the door opened behind him, admitting the person Peter would least wish to see him in this condition. 

"Hello? Is anyone--" In her shock, Morgan Stark uttered several words she had heard grown ups say but had been told never to use. "Is that you, Peter? Peter!"

She could barely believe her eyes. Peter was decked out in his Spidey gear- a sight not unfamiliar to her as Peter was a fixture in the Stark household- and was laying in a pool of his own blood. His clothes, skin, and hair were red and tacky and he hadn’t even moved a muscle when she screamed his name. Morgan looked around wildly. There was absolutely no one around. No one who could help. Even Peter couldn't help her right now.

Morgan squared her shoulders. This time, she would be the one to save someone. If she didn’t do something, Peter was going to die, that was clear. No one could lose that much blood, not even Spiderman. First, she needed to figure out what was wrong with him. Poking him with her foot, she bent down to see if he was still awake. Peter’s eyes were closed and he looked paler than she had ever seen him, even in the winter after months of no sunshine.

Poke. Poke. Peter’s eyelids fluttered, and he seemed to make a bit of noise, but he wasn’t waking up. Looking around, Morgan weighed her options. She was strong, but Peter had ten years and at least one hundred pounds on her. There was very little chance she could drag him to the hospital room, and anyways, she wasn’t sure if dragging him around like that would make his injuries worse. The only option was to grab supplies and work on him where he lay. 

She raced over to the room and dragged open the heavy door. Once inside, she flung open cabinets and cupboards at random, hoping to find something useful. Bandages, she figured, to stop the bleeding, but what else? She saw a bottle of painkillers and grabbed those too, although she wasn’t sure if the pills she took for a headache would be of much use to someone as badly injured as Peter. Filling her arms, Morgan ran back out into the room, skidding to a stop next to him.

Thoughts were whirling around her head at a million miles an hour. Morgan thought of TV shows and hospital dramas she’d watched, books on history and wars she’d read, but none of them had described exactly what to do in a scenario like this. She forced herself to take a deep breath, then another. She wasn’t going to be able to help if she panicked. A good starting place would be to find out where he was bleeding and stop it. Looking around his suit, she noticed that his stomach seemed bloodier than the rest of him. As she watched, she saw fresh trails of red escape through holes of the shredded suit. She took another breath. If that’s where Peter was bleeding from, she had to close it up… but how? 

Morgan wracked her brains, trying to avoid thinking about the time ticking past and Peter’s weak breathing. How would anyone close up a wound? Then it hit her: stitches. People got stitches all the time. When she was five and had fallen from her bike, she had gotten stitches on her knees at the hospital. That’s what she had to do for Peter. Rummaging around her scavenged supplies, she found a kit with some thread and needles inside. It was certainly fortunate she had learned how to sew this year, making clothes for her stuffed animals and Barbies.

However, as Morgan pushed aside Peter’s suit, she couldn’t see any clear dotted lines that directed her where to sew. There were no directions or pink frills. All she could see was the blood that had escaped. She could only see how the arms that had picked her up after her first day of kindergarten seemed to lay too limp by his sides and how the stomach that she had used as a pillow during countless movie nights seemed to shake as if the mere act of breathing was difficult. 

Locating a particularly vicious looking gash, she shakily threaded the needle and brought it to the wound, as the needle pierced his skin Peter moaned and turned over. His eyes seemed to be made of glass, she thought to herself as he blinked several times into her pleading gaze.

“Bullets,” he muttered. “Need… remove.... the bullets…” With that, his eyes rolled back and he stopped moving all together. Morgan looked at him with fresh horror. There were bullets in him? Bullets she had to remove? The very thought made her feel slightly queasy. By nature, Morgan wasn’t squeamish, but the idea of digging though the bullet holes to extract the malignant metal had her feeling sick. Steeling her nerves, she picked up a tweezer and held her breath. 

Just one bullet at a time, she thought as she remembered the game of Operation. She had played that game countless times with Peter, what made that game any different than now? Within five minutes she placed what she hoped was the final piece of metal on the ground beside her. Thankfully, Peter hadn’t regained consciousness. Grabbing the needle again, she began stitching as neatly as she could. Morgan had no idea how many stitches someone required to properly close a wound, but more was probably better. If she put in too few, he might keep bleeding. By the time she was done, her hands were trembling and pale sunlight was beginning to creep through the windows.

Looking down at Peter, she felt a sense of relief that he was still alive. The bleeding had been stopped and the stitches seemed to be holding, which was all she could have asked for. With a sigh she felt a wave of exhaustion hit her. Sleep, that’s all her body wanted, regardless of her desire to stay awake and keep watch over Peter. 

Bandages and needles and loops of thread were still all over the floor, but Morgan left all that and went to the couch and pulled off its pillows and blankets. She placed one beneath Peter’s head and covered him with a blanket before making herself a bed on the floor next to him. Her head hit the pillow and she went out like a light.

\-------------------------------------------

Peter groaned as the morning sun pushed its way through the skyscrapers and into the Stark family kitchen. His torso was on fire, his head hurt, and his body ached like he had been hit by a semi truck. He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten there or why he was on the floor, but as he turned over, he felt the familiar warmth of Morgan by his side. She was curled up into his shoulder and holding him like she always did when they accidentally stayed up too late together and fell asleep side by side. 

However, Morgan wasn’t laying as peacefully as usual and she seemed to be holding onto him as if her mere grip was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. At that, Peter remembered the night before, the fight and the bullets, the trip back and the passing out. 

How had he survived? He shouldn’t have survived. 

Peter attempted to sit up in order to find his bearings but, as he did, a shooting pain flared up from his stomach. He glanced down as his breath seeped out through his teeth, only to find a bandage there. And as he looked to his side he noticed a medical-grade stitches kit. Had Morgan actually stitched him up? 

For a split second Peter was horrified. How could he have let Morgan witness all that? She had already experienced so much death and destruction in her lifetime. He shouldn’t have exposed her to more. Peter would have dedicated his life to protecting her if he knew she would allow it. 

But... without Morgan’s actions tonight, he would be dead. 

Morgan was the one who put her life on hold for him. Morgan was the one who stayed up throughout all hours of the night in order to protect him. Morgan was the one who had found him a blanket and had tucked him in for the night.

So, even though Peter would always be Morgan’s protector, he couldn’t help but admit that it was nice to be the one who was saved.

\-------------------------------------------

_Cowritten and edited with @rapidasher so go check her out! Also, I know I'm posting earlier than normal, but I couldn't wait to post this puppy. I have all these story ideas in my head and all of your love and affection has really motivated me to write them down. Thank you so much for working with me and loving me and for all your comments and kudos. You are all so incredible, you have my deepest gratitude._


	5. Psychiatrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to counteract the mental challenges that blipped students will face, the school board decides to give each blipped student school funded counseling.

**Psychiatrist**

“There should be a limit on how many funerals a person can attend,” sniffled Peter Parker, his voice cutting through the tangible silence of the room.

“Why do you say that?” asked the woman on the sofa across from him. She had a clipboard in her hand and a concerned expression on her face. After four months of therapy, Mrs. Margerrie had genuinely begun to care for the fun loving boy that so often graced her office. His mood today, though, seemed a drastic comparison to the student she so often witnessed. Today, he had red rimmed eyes and was eerily silent. His posture was askew and he draped himself across the school’s small couch.

Peter’s eyes glazed over and the tears of a few moments ago returned, cutting off any response Peter may have given. He had been in her room for 20 minutes already and within 10 minutes she would be forced to kick him out in favor of another. After all, there were many students in midtown high who had been affected by the blip and she was only allowed a half hour time slot for each. 

“I’m just tired of people dying.” 

Mrs. Margerrie was silent, waiting in anticipation for Peter to elaborate. 

“I know that I have it better than most people, I’m not trying to complain or anything, I’m really not. It’s just that-- Well, I’m tired of being left alone. It was one thing with my parents. I didn’t really know them and I knew there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent their deaths. But with Uncle Ben, and now with Mr. Stark…” 

Normally, Mrs. Margerrie would have asked why her patient felt this sort of responsibility. But with one glance at the clock, the psychiatrist knew that she didn’t have time for in depth probings, she had to nip this suicide-inducing mentality in the bud. 

“Peter, you must not blame yourself. No matter how responsible you feel, I can assure you that they would not want the weight of their choices on your shoulders.” 

“It’s just--If you have the ability to stop things, and you don’t, then the bad things happen because of you.” 

“That’s too much for one person to handle Peter.” 

“But I have to handle it!” Peter exclaimed, breaking his calm demeanor and sitting up in his seat. 

“Why?” Mrs. Margerrie replied calmly.

Peter leaned back in his seat then, fingers tapping an incessant rhythm onto the arm of his chair. He took a ragged breath. “I could’ve stopped the mugger who shot my uncle.” 

The psychiatrist remained quiet. How had Peter never brought this up? They had spent the better part of four months together. She was almost finished with the semester at Midtown High and Peter had never shown any _major_ signs of psychological trauma before. 

“I was at the gas station and the cashier was being a real jerk. So, when the man behind me robbed the store, I did nothing to stop him. I didn’t warn the cashier, I didn’t call the cops. Instead, I purposefully walked the other way. Not two minutes later my uncle does the right thing-- the thing he taught me my entire life to do-- he sticks up for the little guy and tries to stop the mugger. He died. He died two blocks away from me and I didn’t do a thing.” 

Tears were streaming down Peter’s face and his next inhale judders like a flag in a storm. Grief seemed to trap his body into stillness and only his eyes revealed the hurricane of emotions inside. 

“And the worst thing was, he was only out because I ran away. I was so stupid and scared and, and if I hadn’t run off we wouldn’t have even ran into that mugger in the first place.” 

“Peter, you can’t control the actions of other people. You were not the one who pulled that trigger.” 

“I might as well have.” 

“But you didn’t. Death is not your fault. It’s an inevitable part of life.” 

This got the young boy beside her to calm down. In his passion he had leaned forward, almost off the edge of his couch. Now he seemed at a precipice, he could either continue this argument and fall off the edge, or succeed and return back to the familiarity of the couch that had been his companion for so many months. Peter chose the latter. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Margerrie. I know you must have another student coming soon.” 

“Peter,” the woman sighed as she crossed the room to place a hand on the boy’s knee. 

“I just, I really miss him, you know?” 

“He sounds like a great man.” 

“The best!” Peter sniffled. 

“Tell me one of your favorite memories.” 

“With who?” 

With who? Wasn’t Peter just talking about his uncle? He was a child when his parents had died and, by his own admission, he remembered very little about them. “Whoever you miss most,” the psychiatrist replied tactfully. “One way to honor those we’ve lost is by treasuring our memories of them.” 

“These meetings are private, right?” Peter responded hesitantly. 

“Yes Peter,” Mrs. Margerrie nodded, still confused but remaining quiet. “I am obliged to stay silent, unless you are talking about hurting yourself or someone around you. I do this because I care about my students and would never want harm to come to any of you.” 

“Well,” Peter began before hesitating again. This boy was a puzzle that was slowly revealing itself before her very eyes. She was starting to assign explanations to each of her student’s small tells and she was starting to see behind one of the boy’s many layers. 

“Go on,” Mrs. Margerrie prompted as she knew she had but minutes left. 

“Did you know that Mr. Stark’s favorite food was cheeseburgers?” 

At this, the psychiatrist was stunned into silence. Today, the school had held an assembly for Mr. Stark and all students had gathered in the gym. The slideshow was supposed to be educational, a sign that you can succeed with hard work and sacrifice. How would this boy know the hero’s favorite food?

“There was one time that we were working on stuff for my internship, and we got into a debate about which fast food place made the best burgers. He decided we had to test our hypothesis and it would be his most groundbreaking research yet. We ordered two cheeseburgers from every fast food place we could think of and, when they came, we each ate them bite by bite and rated them on a variety of things. We made a huge table and even tested a few of the cheeses in the lab.” 

At this Peter chuckled. His eyes were still red-rimmed but Mrs. Margerrie could tell that the boy's depressed mood was fading away. In its place was a simple fondness for the mentor the world would never know. It was no wonder that the boy had broken down today. If her or any of the school's psychiatrists had known that someone in the bleachers had a personal relationship with Tony Stark, they would never have hosted the assembly in such a careless way. 

It had been a slideshow with random facts and bits of information, stock art images and overplayed music. The whole school had watched replayed footage of Pepper Stark saying her official goodbye, but had quickly been forced to go about their day afterwards. To the school, Tony Stark was an influential man who the students could look up to in order to become successful. He was simply a model of hard work. He was a lesson. But to this boy in front of her, Tony Stark wasn’t just a lesson, Tony Stark was a man. A man who was able to laugh and cry and be human like the rest of them. 

“How long had you been working with Mr. Stark?” Mrs. Margerrie asked, unable to control her curiosity. 

“Since sophomore year.” 

“I’m sorry for the Stark memorial today. I realize it may have been insensitive.” 

“It’s alright. I already attended his funeral, so I should’ve just gotten all my tears out then. And besides, I know Mr. Stark was famous. I should’ve expected it.” 

“You never have to apologise about having feelings, Peter. It’s a part of what makes us human.” 

With that, the school’s psychiatrist looked at the clock and realized their session was over. She stood up and walked back over to her couch, picked up her clipboard and pen, and began to write. 

“Come back next week with one more good memory from each of the people you mourn. Something that makes you smile. I look forward to hearing your stories.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Margerrie,” Peter responded with a grin as he picked up his discarded bag and walked to the door.

“Of course Peter, I look forward to seeing you soon!” 

With that, Peter walked out the door and one of the school’s freshmen walked in. He was another student that was reeling with the aftershocks of the blip and, therefore, another student that the psychiatrist felt called to help. 

She was, of course, happy to see the other teenager waiting. She just couldn’t help but be sad to see Peter Parker walk out the door- a geeky teenage boy that had just revealed another of his many layers to her. 

\--------------------------------

It would be another four months before Mrs. Margerrie could unveil another layer. The day started out like any other Monday. There was breakfast and a rainy car ride, conversations with students and gossip with teachers. It wasn’t until the fourth period that things started to get interesting. That’s when the announcement occured. 

“May I have your attention, please? We are currently moving into a lock-down situation. Please do not panic and listen closely to this announcement and your teacher…”

As the principal droned on, Mrs. Margerrie turned her attention back to the student in her session, Peter Parker. Peter was a boy who had lost both of his father figures violently at the hands of criminals, therefore, a boy she expected to panic in such a situation. Yet, Peter’s face seemed to slip into a mask of neutrality and the boy didn’t even stir in his relaxed pose on the sofa across from her. 

“Peter?” she probed calmly, “Let’s move to the corner of the room so the intruder can’t spot us.” 

The boy nodded and stood up to join the teacher as she locked the doors, closed the drapes, and sat in the corner of the room. He even aided her by turning off the lights. Mrs. Margerrie knew the dangers this world could pose, she’d faced them all too often in her neighborhood. She’d even been saved by Spiderman on several occasions. The psychiatrist was calm because she’d faced worse, but she couldn’t quite comprehend the calmness of the boy in front of her. 

They sat in silence for several minutes before they heard footsteps down the hall. Footsteps that only paused when their doorknob started to jangle. Mrs. Margerrie placed her body in between the door and her student but, after several terrifying moments in which both members in the room couldn’t even bear to breathe, the door remained unpassable and the intruder moved on. 

The silence wore on, becoming a tangible being that seemed to prey on the fears of her and her student. Mrs. Margerrie hoped against hope that this was a misunderstanding, that she had simply forgotten about a scheduled drill. As the speaker crackled to life once more, her prayers were unanswered. 

“Help,” whimpered a young voice, “someone help me.” At the sound of this young girl’s voice, the psychiatrist froze. She knew that voice. That was the voice of one of her students: a sophomore girl who hadn’t been blipped but had specially requested counseling. She was a girl who had been badly abused by one of her parent’s' exes and who wouldn’t handle the pressure of being kidnapped well. 

She was about to get up and help the girl herself when another voice replaced the girl’s on the soundsystem. A gravelly voice that sounded ruthless and heartless, a voice that would not hesitate to kill anyone in his way. 

“You heard her, Spiderman,” the voice growled in an echoing tone that Mrs. Margerrie could only assume indicated a broadcast. Midtown High was one of the few school’s that could connect to the news’ broadcasting channels. It was installed for the purpose of downloading and research, but if it could work one way, it could work another. And with that terrifying revelation, the school’s employee knew why her school had been chosen as the site of a kidnapping, to make it viral.

“Help her, Spiderman. Come to Midtown High and save this little girl within the hour or this will be the last time you hear her voice. Every hour you wait, I kill another student. Your time starts now.” 

She gasped in horror. Sure, there had been villains who’d threatened Spiderman in the past. Villains who’d goaded the city's hero or simply had little impulse control. But this man, this man was calm and collected. A man who would bide his time and set traps for the spider. And, from what Mrs. Margerrie could tell, wouldn’t hesitate to follow through on his threat. 

“Mrs. Margerrie, I have to go,” announced Peter as he stood up from his spot in the room and crossed over to where his backpack lay discarded. 

“No you do not!” The woman whisper screamed as she attempted to pull her student back down into the corner. “There is a psychotic killer on the loose in our school. There’s no way I’m letting you out there!” 

"Technically he's in the office guarding his hostage."

"That's not the point!"

“Mrs. Margerrie, you don’t understand.” 

“Like hell I don’t understand!” The psychiatrist had never raised her voice at a patient before, let alone a child, but today was no ordinary day. Today the psychiatrist was dealing with a student actively trying to put himself in death’s path. 

“Mrs. Margerrie, please.” 

The boy stopped moving completely and stared at her. His eyes had transformed. They were no longer the playful eyes that would gleam when he talked about Star Wars or his girlfriend. Today, the boy's eyes were steely and hardened. They were sad eyes that had seen the crap hand that the world had dealt him and still had to play the game through till the end. 

“Why?” 

“Please!” 

“Not until you tell me why.” 

Peter’s gaze intensified. He seemed to measure her worth and analyze if she was really who she claimed to be. It was a look that she had given her students plenty of times. A look that asked if they could be trusted and taken at their word.

After what felt like a lifetime of searching, Peter nodded. He took a deep breath and replied, “I am Spiderman.” 

This statement was enough to confuse the psychiatrist into releasing her grip on the boy. Peter used this opportunity to slip towards his backpack and towards the attached bathroom. He grabbed the zipper and yanked it open, pulling a red and blue suit out of the bag in two fluid movements. Movements that were so practiced that the psychiatrist knew he had done them thousands of times before. 

Yet, even as the psychiatrist’s brain reeled to identify what her eyes were seeing, she couldn’t quite force herself to believe it. Even as the door flipped back open to reveal Peter Parker’s head on Spiderman’s body. Even as the boy walked towards the window while pulling a mask over his head. Even as he flew out the window and down to what should have been his death. The psychiatrist’s brain struggled to comprehend the gravity of what she’d just seen. 

How could the man that had saved her life be the same kid she’d visited weekly for the past year? How could the man she’d seen flipping over buildings be the same child that struggled to talk to a girl during his group project? It didn’t make sense.

Though, in a way, it did. Over the next hour, as she heard the crashing and clanging from the fight across school, she started to puzzle the pieces of Peter Parker together. His constant comments about responsibility. His hero complex and his desire to help everyone in school. The appearances of Spiderman being mostly in the evenings and the constant exhaustion visible behind Peter Parker’s overenthusiastic personality. The days that he called in sick were directly after a fight. He often wore long sleeves. Little by little, the pieces all came into place to reveal a picture clearer than she had ever seen before. 

How had she not realized it sooner?

\--------------------------------

An hour and several explosions later, Spiderman came climbing back into her room. His suit was torn in places and he had blood dripping from one of his legs, though the man- boy- seemed otherwise unscathed. He walked calmly to the center of the room towards where his backpack lay but, instead of removing his suit, he appeared frozen in place. The gaze of his webbed mask appeared transfixed to the discarded bag and his body was as immovable as a statue. 

“Welcome back, Peter,” Mrs. Margerrie announced, breaking the silence as she walked over to put away the papers on her desk. “I hope everything went well.” 

“Y-yeah” Peter stuttered, “It went great.” 

“I’m glad. The principal asked us to send our students home after the altercation today. The school’s speakers were damaged in the fight, but he wished to make sure you were all accounted for before we sent you home.” 

“I’m accounted for.” 

“I can see that. Can you take off your mask, Spiderman?” 

Peter’s head slowly turned towards her at this comment. His feet remanded as steadfast as stone, but his arm reached up to grab his mask as he continued to make eye contact with the teacher who had been his companion these many months. 

“You know.” Peter stated once the mask was off his head, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend the fact that she was there.

“I do.” 

“Are-- are you going to tell anyone?” 

“There’s a thing at school called student-teacher confidentiality. Whatever gets admitted during our sessions is not something I can talk about with my colleagues.” 

“I thought that, if I was risking my life, confidentiality no longer applied?” 

“Peter,” sighed Mrs. Margerrie as she looked at the scared boy in front of her, “Take a seat.” 

The teen sat down dutifully, giving the teacher a respect that very few high schoolers possessed. 

“Peter, do you remember November 16th?” 

At this Peter’s eyes scrunched in confusion. It was obvious that he did not remember that day, and why would he? There were so many people that this boy saved on a daily basis. Why would he remember one story out of a thousand?

“November 16th was the day that I was nearly raped. My car had broken down that week and I was forced to walk back and forth from the bus stop in order to commute from school. The criminal had backed me into a corner and demanded money, which I gave freely. However, he wanted more. He backed me into a corner, Peter, and I was so scared. Do you know what happened next?” 

Peter simply stared at her as comprehension overtook his features, “Someone stopped him.” 

“Yes, Peter, someone stopped him, and do you know who that person was?” 

Peter shrugged.

“It was you. Ever since that night I’ve thought of what I could say to my hero. How I could thank him for saving my life.” 

“You would’ve lived.” Peter mumbled.

“No. I would have survived, but that’s not the same thing as living. Do you understand me, Peter?” 

Here, Peter finally manages to make eye contact with his mentor; a woman who has stayed by his side for just over a year and a woman who he now trusts with his most intimate secret. 

“I understand.”

“Good. Because I think I’ve finally found a way to repay you for saving my life, Peter.” 

“How?” 

“I’d like to be your confidante. I’d like you to unload all your superhero ‘crap’ onto my shoulders. I’d like to hear your fears and sorrows as well as your heroic moments. There are so many heroes in today’s world that suffer mentally and I do not want this to be the case for you. Let me help you, Peter.” 

There was a pregnant pause in the room as Peter dissected the words that his Mrs. Margerrie uttered with a sense of incredulity. He seemed in awe that an adult would not only keep his secret, but would also be willing to help him through it.

“That would be nice,” he confessed with a slight smile on his face. “That would be nice.” 

“Now, do you need me to drive you to the hospital?” 

“No, I heal fast. I should be fine by tomorrow morning.” 

With an astonished glance at the boy’s leg, Mrs. Margerrie noticed he was right. The cut that had been there but moments ago was now a quickly healing scab. 

“Well, can I take you anywhere?” 

“Stark Tower?” he questioned hesitantly. It was a well known fact that the Stark Tower had been bought by another famous company. Yet, its famous title had been so imprinted into the public mind that it was hard to think of the tower as anything but the home of their former hero- especially as the top two floors were still owned by the billionaire’s family and often housed the heroes who were staying in town. It made sense that the boy wanted to go there. There was a medical room fully stocked with, what she could only assume to be, superhero medication. 

“Very well,” approved the psychiatrist as she picked up her briefcase from the counter and started walking towards the door, closely followed by an excited Peter Parker. 

“Peter,” she asked before opening the door, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“What?” he asked as he flipped his backpack around and started rummaging through his school things. 

“Your suit?” she laughed as she gestured to his superhero attire. 

“Shoot!” Peter exclaimed as he quickly bolted to the bathroom. 

It was a wonder he had managed to hide his identity for so long. He was such a flighty kid. In a few seconds the door swung back open and Peter announced, “I’m ready!” 

With another chuckle the psychiatrist stepped out the door with Peter Parker trailing behind. A boy that she loved dearly and a boy that she now knew to also be her idolized superhero. A child who geeked out about Star Wars and a man who had just faced one of the cities most feared criminals just moments ago. 

She was glad it was Peter though. The world was in capable hands if Peter Parker was the one protecting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @rapidasher for her beautiful Beta-ness, and many thanks to you all for your love and support. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Spiderman Groupchat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter Parker is not as subtle as he thinks he is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Rapiddasher, thanks for fangirling and grammaring. U da best!

When Peter Parker started doing personal experimenting during chemistry class, Michael had been concerned. Anytime he had glanced at his partner, the desk drawers would quickly close or Peter would make stuttered excuses. Michael wasn’t an idiot, he’d seen Breaking Bad before. If that show had taught him anything, it was that quiet and secretive people can get up to some extreme mischief in a chemistry classroom. That was when the first text went out.

_**Friday, September 4, 10:08am** _

_**Michael** : Is Peter Parker a drug dealer? I’m concerned. Can anyone else spot what he’s concocting under the table?_

_**Reagan** : I saw that too, it looks like a whitish glop. I thought it was slime? _

_**Phillip** : Definitely not slime, and have you seen how fast he mixes that? Dude’s like a kitchenaid! _

_**Michael** : He keeps getting defensive whenever I mention it. I’m guessing not a school project _

_**Phillip** : It almost looks like webbing _

_**Michael** : Spiderman copycat? _

_**Reagan** : Or maybe Peter really is Spiderman? Give him some credit. Maybe our small nerdy lab partner can swing from buildings _

The group’s collective chuckle caused Peter’s head to rise up in confusion.

“Sorry, dude,” Phillip said, being the first to recover, “Just a meme. Let’s finish this project.”

* * *

The next time someone texted in the chemistry group chat, a picture was sent. The picture was taken in math class and exposed a rebellious student who watched youtube during class. It was a grainy photo that was made even blurrier by the haphazard angle in which the photo was taken. And yet, the figure within the youtube video was still recognizable. It was someone on the news every other night, a masked hero who had taken New York by storm: Spiderman.

_**Monday, September 7, 11:25am** _

_**Phillip** : Our buddy Peter’s still obsessed with Spiderman. He may even give Flash a run for his money _

_**Reagan** : Is he watching Youtube in math class? Priceless! _

_**Michael** : Wish I were that smart. The teacher very obviously sees it and just doesn’t care _

_**Reagan** : Peter Parker, the genius, can get away with anything he wants _

_**Phillip** : Even roaming the streets at night in a mask and onesie? _

_**Reagan** : Roaming the streets at night in a skintight onesie! _

_**Michael** : Oh come on, he’s a walking q-tip! Why would you want that? _

_**Reagan** : I want what I want, don’t judge me! _

_**Phillip** : Ewwww. Please don’t ever mention that again. _

**_Reagan added Julie to the group chat_ **

_**Reagan** : @Julie, Back me up on this. Peter Parker is hot _

_**Julie** : Massively! And you heard it here first, but the other day he was taking his jacket off and I saw abs underneath. Dude’s ripped! _

_**Michael** : Don’t believe it. Peter’s never worked out a day in his life! _

_**Phillip** : So he’s Spiderman is what we’re concluding. _

_**Julie** : How’d we reach that conclusion? _

_**Reagan** : He’s watching a Spiderman youtube video rn and he was making webs in chemistry the other day. It’s our conspiracy theory. Welcome to the party._

**_Julie renamed the group chat: “Spiderman Conspiracy Theory”_ **

**_Reagan renamed the group chat: “It’s Obviously Peter Parker”_ **

**_Julie renamed the group chat: “Reasons Why Peter Parker is Hot”_ **

**_Phillip renamed the group chat: “Peter is Spiderman. Now shut up and pay attention in class”_ **

* * *

When Brodie made a comment about Spiderman only saving lives after school was over, he became the group chat’s fifth honorary member.

When Heather overheard Peter and Ned talking about stealing Captain America’s shield during gym class, she became the sixth.

During shop class Peter and Ned were spotted meddling with some pretty intense alien tech, so the group chat gained four new members that day.

MJ saw Peter hurdle over the school’s gates at the end of the day. As in a leap-over-the-bars-without-touching-while posing-like-a-superhero hurdle. She was the eleventh and biggest supporter so far.

MJ was the member who took the group chat from a joke conspiracy to a legit idea. She compiled the group chat’s random ideas into an ongoing google doc that made her fellow students wary of her investigatory skills. She analysed youtube videos of the masked vigilante to figure out the man’s height (the same as Peter Parkers) and weight (the same as Peter Parkers). She noticed how Peter Parker was always absent whenever Spiderman showed up. She also noticed how Spiderman appeared in Washington only when the group took a field trip there. She noticed how obsessed Peter was with Liz, but how he ditched her at the night of the homecoming- the night where Spiderman was seen saving the Stark plane.

With MJ’s list, the evidence became overwhelming. Soon people stopped saying ‘what if Peter is Spiderman’ and started to say, ‘how does Peter expect us not to notice that he’s Spiderman’.

After months of this constant chatter the chat decided to invite in Ned, Peter Parker’s best friend. If anyone would have solid evidence and rant worthy material on Spiderman’s identity, it would be him. But when MJ confronted Ned about it, Ned suddenly appeared defensive--

“What? No! Of course Peter isn’t Spiderman. There’s no way he could be Spiderman!”

“Well, I mean, I’ve been watching you guys, it’s kind of obvious.”

“Peter’s not Spiderman, he just has the Stark internship and, ah, well, look at the time, I’ve actually got to go. Nice talking to you MJ. See you later. In a little bit. I’ve got to go. Bye!”

* * *

_**Thursday, January 7, 9:17am** _

_**MJ** : Peter’s definitely Spiderman and Ned definitely knows _

_**Helen** : That dude’s so smart but he sucks at lying _

_**Natalie** : Preach! He’s in my English Lit class and the one week he didn’t do his homework he started sweating a ton and admitted within seconds! The teacher didn’t even collect that day and he still gave himself up _

_**Abe** : We love Ned, but he’s very dense _

_**Helen** : Did anyone ever here about the time Ned was sent to the principal's office in middle school?_

_**MJ** : Stick to topic Helen, this is the Spiderman chat. If you want to talk about other stuff you will be removed _

_**Helen** : You’re not the admin_

_**MJ** : @MichaelDeCamp _

_**Michael DeCamp made Michelle Jones Admin** _

_**Helen** : fine_

_**James** : Ned’s at Peter’s locker right now talking in hushed tones. $5 he’s telling Peter what MJ just asked him _

_**Abe** : No bet. We all know you’re right_

* * *

Two weeks later was the first time that the class acted on their insider information. Betty had sent a before school text with a news article attached. The article showed Spiderman taking down a drug deal the night prior and the images had been taken at 4am. The caption alongside it was as follows:

_**Thursday, January 21, 6:25am** _

_**Susie Anne:** Peter’s going to be tired today _

_**Michael** : That sucks! Like, it’s super cool, but it sucks _

_**Lucas** : I’m in his first hour, I can grab his homework for him in case he misses it. I’ll get it to Ned during lunch _

_**Susie Anne** : I got third, Ned’s in our second tho, so we don’t have to worry about that_

* * *

A week after that the group chat was used to scheme.

_**Thursday, January 28, 9:54am** _

_**MJ** : Guys, armed robbery across the street and Peter suddenly has to go to the bathroom. If anyone asks, Peter got diarrhea. Make sure to comment on the awful smelling bathroom or something. He’s going to be gone for a while. _

_**Mariah** : I want to be mad because I know that bathroom pass is going to be gone all day, but my dude’s saving lives so I can’t even be pissed _

_**Simeon** : Go Peter! Spiderman up! WE BELIEVE IN YOU! _

_**Tommy** : <sent a GIF> _

_**Susie Anne** : God bless our favorite hero! _

_**Betty** : Wish I could get out too. I so want to watch! _

_**Simeon** : You and me both @Betty!_

* * *

The group chat was used every day over the course of the next year. Whether people were posting Spiderman news updates or simply getting a laugh out of their obnoxiously obvious classmate. It got to the point where every member of the student body (besides Ned and Peter) were a part of this chat. There was Spiderman love and Spiderman hate. There was Spiderman merch and Spiderman memes and everything in between. The group chat was a way that Midtown High supported their fellow Spider.

That is, until August 2, 2018.

The day that half of the group chat’s members became inactive.

The day that Midtown High- and all of New York- lost their beloved Spider.

Sure there were occasional posts about a conspiracy theory. Someone would claim that they saw the masked hero swinging past them on the metro, others would swear they saw him as they were walking past their apartment window. But they were all rumors. And as the time in between sightings and conspiracy grew, the chat became more and more abandoned. It would take longer for the students to scroll through their texts to find the relic, and soon it became an all together forgotten.

* * *

**_October 22, 2023_ **

_**Lucas** : Hello all, I know I graduated three years ago already, but I just saw Spiderman on the news the other day and I needed to reach out. Thank you to each and every one of you for making my high school years worthwhile. Thank you for your conspiratory laughter and your hilarious memes. For helping build me up even when I felt like I’d lost everything. And for those of you just returning- Thank you for your sacrifice and I will continue to pray for you all. Please watch after our Spider, he’s going to need all the help he can get now. Blessings, Lucas. _

_**Simeon** : Dude, you sound like an email. You’re 22, not an 80 year old accountant _

_**Lucas** : Missed you too dude, It’s good to read your sass again. _

_**MJ** : Let’s get a head count. Who from this group chat is still in high school? I’ll create a poll and a new chat. Peter’s going to need all the help we can give. _

**_MJ created a Poll: “Are you still a member of Midtown High?”_ **

_**Mariah** : I’m technically a teacher now, (student teaching) can I still be a part of the chat?_

* * *

**_MJ created a new chat_ **

**_Mariah has been added to the chat_ **

**_MJ renamed chat: “Spiderman”_ **

**_MJ added 97 more members_ **

_**MJ** : First day of school, first day of chat. There is only one rule here so I expect you to follow it. The conversation strictly revolves around Spiderman/ Peter Parker._

_**Betty** : I have 4 out of 7 classes with Peter Parker. So excited to see the drama! Will keep you all informed. _

_**Abe** : I only have 1 but it’s gym. It’s always so hilarious to watch Spiderman pretend to fail. _

_**Phillip** : Yeah, who’s he kidding. The dude never works up a sweat and always speeds up nearer to the end. _

_**Daniel** : I think Coach started catching on a couple years ago, let’s see if he still catches on this year. _

_**Abe** : Update: Coach definitely knows. He just doesn’t care. I wonder how many of the teachers have figured out? _

_**Mariah** : HERE’S THE TEA! THEY ALL KNOW! _

_**Lindsey** : What? _

_**Reagan** : Oh my frickidy frack, snickity snack! _

_**Taylor** : <sent a GIF> _

_**Mariah** : I was just briefed in the teacher’s lounge this morning. If there’s any huge Spiderman activity the night before, I’m to make sure to not give any strenuous tests or quizzes. _

_**Mariah** : The teachers didn’t outright say it was because of Peter. But the topic was brought up as soon as Peter left from handing in his permission slip, and quickly paused when he returned to grab a pen he forgot. They all know! _

_**Helen** : Please let it be a crazy year for Spiderman!_

* * *

Just like that, the group chat was reborn. It was a phoenix that emerged from its ashes even more powerful than before and, as more and more personal accounts were told, the chat became a way to praise their fellow classmate- instead of their normal teasing. There would be statements of gratitude and statements of awe. It was as if, after living through a life of blip, the students all started to understand the horrors of being a hero.

And yet, no one was quite ready when the first meltdown happened.

Peter and his lab partners had been talking about lunch and someone mentioned how badly they were craving cheeseburgers.

Peter had looked off into the distance and his eyes started to tear up. His lip twitched as he visibly tried to restrain himself, but to no avail. The tears were streaming down his face within seconds and Peter had quickly stood up to use the restroom. Ned had followed immediately behind and- while everyone knew that only one student was allowed to use the bathroom pass at a time- no one called them out on it. A few minutes later, the group chat received its first warning post.

* * *

_**Reagan** : Don’t mention cheeseburgers _

* * *

Within a few weeks the group chat was filled with these warnings. There got to be so many that MJ made a separate document to label and organize these words. When new people were added to the group chat, MJ was sure to send these newcomers the doc as well as a quizlet to aid with memorization. That became Rule number 2 of the group chat.

Help Peter Parker because “if Spiderman is going to protect New York, the least we can do is try and protect Spiderman.”

Her list was a random assortment of people, places and things that no one had ever dared to ask the origins of. The list was full of everything from Footloose to Vultures, from confined spaces to loud noises. Sure everyone knew that the Blip was tragic, and that they would be scarred in some way or another. But no one had really begun to conceive the concept of going into a world ending battle minutes after rebirth. And no one could even begin to fathom how Peter Parker put himself on the line every day to do what he believed was right, even though he was going through extreme pain.

So now, whenever a new student joins Midtown High, they are obliged to join the super secret group chat. And whenever they receive MJ’s quizlet, they are obliged to memorize it. No matter who they are or who you hang out with, they must support their web slinging friend and care for him. They don’t tell the cops, oh no, but they can send hilarious memes and Spiderman puns.

Because Spiderman is someone to treasure, and Peter Parker deserves all the help he can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is highly based off of a Tumblr concept I found, so much so that I wanted to list the contributors. Thanks to @Peterpdaily, @nitrostreak, @song-of-the-moon-1025, and @winteriron-trash. You guys may never find out that this story exists since I personally don't have a Tumblr. But your guys' idea is what made me stay up way too late writing. 
> 
> So for all you readers out there, feel free to put your own ideas into the world too, you never know who you may inspire!


	7. Doctor On Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spiderman gets REALLY injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> So I'm back in college rn and, unfortunately, this means my overcommitted self is surviving off of minimal sleep once again. That being said, I've received so much love and support lately that I decided you all deserve another chapter. You're feedback means the world to me and I thank you all for your words of affirmation. I love writing these stories just as much as you, apparently, love reading them. So here's another chapter and I hope you all enjoy.

**Doctor On Scene**

Kathy had seen blood more times than she could count. Her doctoral profession gave her intense knowledge of the human body and she knew that, when a person bled as badly as Spiderman was bleeding now, they were near the brink of death. 

“‘S ok” slurred the voice of her hero, “bad guys ‘r all webbed up and y’r safe.” 

The hero attempted to bow then, a cocky action to ease everyone’s fear and make him out to be the brash vigilante he so often pretended to be. Though, instead of making the crowd more at ease, the bow only made him dizzy and he stumbled towards the alley wall. 

“Spiderman, are you alright?” Kathy asked as she stepped out from the crowd huddled in the corner. 

“‘M’kay” he responded as he leaned against the wall and pointed finger guns her way. 

“Spiderman, you’re bleeding a lot. I’ve spent 5 years as a first responder and am currently a surgeon. I have bandages in my purse, may I help?” 

“‘M fine” he slurred as he swiped his hand out in front of him. 

She was about to go over and help him anyways, regardless of her training, when she heard sirens wailing in the background and he moved. 

“That’s my cue to leave” he claimed as he waved goodbye and sprinted up the wall. It was a move that Kathy had ogled over countless times on youtube, but was just as unbelievable in person. She wanted to take her phone out and film it, to have proof that she witnessed Spiderman in all his crime fighting glory, proof that-- was he slowing down? 

Sure enough, the masked spider only made it ¾ of the way up the alley wall before he slowed, stumbled, and fell. 

The crowd shrieked as their hero fell down 5 flights and landed in a curled up ball, doing very little to break his fall. 

“Spiderman!” they all seemed to cry at once. A young boy pulled against his mother's arms to try and reach his hero, a teen finally looked up and over the screen on her phone, and Kathy lost whatever self restraint she had possessed earlier. 

“Spiderman, can you hear me? I’m going to help you, is that alright?” 

“Mmmm” she heard him grumble, good enough for her. 

“The first thing we need to do is to stop your bleeding” Kathy continued as she grabbed the gauze in her purse, “I know you got stabbed pretty bad in your shoulder. This is near your aorta so we need to put pressure on the wound immediately.” 

“Hmmm” he responded again 

“Alright Spiderman, I’m going to lift you up so I can wrap the bandage around your body a few times.” 

This process continued for what seemed like hours, Kathy trying her hardest to heal the hero while still respecting his identity. Even the criminal who stabbed Spiderman looked guilty. These ‘villains’ had simply been looking for a quick score as she and her fellow researchers were leaving their high end auction. 

In hindsight, she and her friends had been perfect targets. They had been wearing their finest jewelry and had exited at once. They should have been more careful; but one has a false sense of confidence when dressed in one’s finest clothes. Plus, there may have been a small amount of alcohol involved. 

She should have realized that their chauffeurs weren't supposed to be tattooed highwaymen. She should have realized that the weapons they held were no ordinary weapons too. But she didn’t, and that led her here: in an alleyway with their discarded limos parked in the opposing corner and 12 petty criminals webbed to them. Here, in the center of a back alley with a bleeding out hero in her hands and an ever increasing wale of the siren. 

“Alright Spiderman, stay with me alright, is there anywhere else you were injured?” 

No response. 

“Spiderman, are you injured anywhere else?” 

No response again. 

At this Kathy leaned back to gauge if the hero's chest was rising and falling. But, with the dark lighting and the ripped up suit, she wasn’t able to tell. 

“Spiderman, I have to tell if you're breathing or not to give you CPR. I’m going to remove part of your mask.” 

As she raised the mask to his nose she felt, strangely, as if she were doing something inappropriate. She knew that this action could save his life, and yet, she couldn’t help but feel nervous at the same time. It had been years since she had felt this green. What would she do if her hero died? 

A small, struggling breath emanated from the figure below her and Kathy couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief herself. He was still alive. If only barely. 

“Spiderman, the ambulances are on their way. We’ll be able to get your bullets out in a sterilized environment soon. You just need to stay awake till then, ok?”

“No cops” He muttered under his breath.” 

While the sentence was enough to surprise Kathy, she was simply relieved her hero was talking again- no matter that it was muttered and garbled with blood. 

“No cops” she affirmed quickly, “Just the hospital” 

“Karen, call Tony Stark. Tell him its code red and-- and-- send him-- my-- lo--location.” 

“My name is Kathy and I do not have Tony Stark’s number” she stated hesitantly. 

“Try again” 

“Spiderman. Are you hallucinating.” 

“Red” 

“Spiderman, if you’re hallucinating then it's possible your stab wound was laced with something and I will have to act immediately.” 

No response. 

With a shuddering breath Kathy knew what she had to do. She had to look at his pupils to see how dilated they were, if they were red, etc. Eyes were a clear and easy sign to see the effects of poison. She knew that the crowd behind her had edged closer during her ministrations. She also knew that the man before her had a secret identity to protect. Kathy was not an idiot. She knew that heroes kept their identity a secret for the sake of their families. She had seen first hand what happened when Stark’s home had been unveiled on television, he’d been bombed within hours. 

“Everyone turn your phones off!” she demanded with the authority she knew had saved lives in the past, “I need to check Spiderman’s eyes to see if they’re dilated and if even one person records this I swear to God I will hunt you down and kill you myself.” 

These citizens were the high end types. They were not the average citizens that Spiderman saved daily. And yet, they were still moved to action by their cities hero and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, all cameras were lowered. The glow of phones was extinguished and the crowd seemed to hold their breath in anticipation. 

Kathy took off the mask. 

It was a kid. 

It was a kid? 

It was a kid! 

The crowd around her seemed to pause in the same realization. How in the world could Spiderman, the hero who goes swinging around New York, be a child. This boy couldn’t be any older than her nephew. This boy’s biggest concern should be what grade he got on his latest math test, not whether or not he would die in the back of an alley. 

“Spiderman?” she asked again, fighting hard to keep neutrality in her voice, “I’m going to open your eyes now to see if you’re suffering from the effects of poison.” 

No response. 

If his stab wound had been laced with something it very easily could have gotten into his bloodstream, she had to act quickly. She opened his eyes and found that they were unresponsive, but normal. They were also brown like her nephews, but she filed that information away for a later, non emergency time. 

“Ok Spiderman, it doesn’t look like you’ve been poisoned so I’m going to cover your eyes again. I’m not going to cover your mouth because your breathing is already labored but-- 

“Spiderman!” shouted a voice from above as the cacophony of rocket blasts filled the alley 

She made sure the mask was covering everything it should be before she turned around to face the man above her. 

“He’s lost a lot of blood” she began, doing her best to block out the fact that she was in the presence of two of the world’s greatest heroes, “He’s not poisoned and I’ve put as much pressure and bandages as I can on the wounds. But the ambulance is minutes away and we’ll have a sterilized facility to operate on him soon.” 

“I’m taking him.” Ironman stated, as nothing she’d said hadn’t registered. 

At this Kathy placed herself in front of the unconscious hero, “He’s in serious condition! You can’t just operate on him in your living room Stark!” 

“Of course I’m not going to examine him in my living room! We have a medbay and doctors who are trained to handle mutants. Now step aside.” 

At this Kathy understood the situation. Spiderman was a mutant, he probably wouldn’t react the same to their medicines and maybe even had organs in different places. He was right, the nearby hospital wouldn’t be equipped to deal with such injuries and he’d probably need to be airlifted after they got to the hospital anyways. Spiderman may be a mutant, and he may be able to handle more damage than the average human, but he didn’t have that amount of time left. 

“Thank you Ironman” she spoke as the hero lifted the young boy into his arms

Ironman simply nodded at her before shooting his blasters off again and flying towards Avengers Tower. Leaving Kathy and the other auction goers behind in utter shock at what had just happened. 

The cops pulled up seconds later, relieved to see the familiar sight of webbing in the corner of the alleyway. They walked over to where the crowd had formed and took out their journals as opposed to their guns. 

“What happened here?” the leader asked. 

\------------------------

William knew that Mary was hiding something, just like he knew the last seven people he’d interviewed had been hiding something. Every person he’d talked to seemed to be holding something back and he couldn’t tell why. All admitted that Spiderman had been there, all admitted the hero had been injured in a fight. But that was about all their stories had in common. 

The first had said that it wasn’t a bad injury at all, that Spiderman was still able to do “crazy flips and circles around those villains”. The second had mentioned that the masked Spider was so injured he had trouble scaling the alley wall. The third had simply pointed to the pool of blood on the ground and claimed that Spiderman was dead, refusing to comment any further. 

With Mary though, he was determined to get the full story. She was a high schooler who had recorded the fight on her phone. She had shown it to him immediately, though was hardly much help otherwise. Her video had caught very little in the beginning due to poor lighting and an active fight nearby. And the last few seconds only included Spiderman webbing up the victims and stumbling around a bit. It was clear that the teen had been more focused on her life and the hero before her than the quality of her recording. 

Mary had seemed nervous to show it to him though, as if she had done something to the video or cut something off. Her actions had been too quick and her posture was so rigid she could’ve passed as a statue. 

“May I see the video again?” William asked

“Of course” she responded, though hesitantly. 

William knew that she, like everyone else stuck in the alley, just wanted to get it over with and go home. So, when William moved to take the phone instead of simply watching from her hand, the girl didn’t refuse. 

And, when William stealthily moved to the ‘recently deleted’ tabs on the girls phone, he wasn’t surprised to find the same video with a few extra seconds. He quickly forwarded to the end and, putting the phone to his ear, he listened to why this teen would have tampered with evidence.

_“Spiderman, the ambulances are on their way. We’ll be able to get your bullets out in a sterilized environment soon. You just need to stay awake till then, ok?”_

This part he knew, this was where the previous video had ended. 

_A muttering could be heard by the masked vigilante before the medic replied, “No cops, just the hospital”_

Weird. Spiderman had never hesitated to talk with them before. Their department had developed quite a relationship with the man over the years and a few officers had even managed to snag the hero’s phone number a few months back. It was later learned that the number was attached to a burner phone, but it didn’t change the fact that they had a way to reach out to the hero should they need him. 

Why would Spiderman be avoiding the department if he was in trouble? Didn’t he know that any law enforcement agency in New York would move heaven and earth to help their neighborhood hero? 

_“My name is Kathy and I do not have Tony Stark’s number” the woman spoke._

_Pause_

_“Spiderman. Are you hallucinating.”_

_Pause_

_“Spiderman, if you’re hallucinating then it's possible your stab wound was laced with something and I will have to act immediately.”_

_Another Pause._

Weird, William thought, the only way to test if a person has been poisoned is through a poison kit. There are some types of poison that you can tell by eye dilation, but the crowd wouldn’t have been able to tell because Spiderman had a mask. Wait, did that lady remove his mask? Could the mask even be removed? 

_“Everyone turn your phones off!” she demanded_

The video ended. 

William looked up at the teenage girl before him in awe. A girl who had seen the face of a hero, who had glanced at the person beneath all that charisma. A girl who could blab to all her friends at school. And one of a whole crowd of people that could also tell.

He had to do what he could to protect Spiderman. Many of these people were rich and had made money through questionable means. He wouldn’t put it past these people to sell the information of Spiderman’s identity to the highest bidder.

He deleted the video from her recently deleted and gave the phone back. 

“Thank you ma’am” If you wouldn’t mind sending the video to my phone it’s great evidence against your attackers. Thank you for your bravery.” 

She relaxed, “No, thank you officer Sir” 

“You’re very welcome” and he walked away. He had a lot of paperwork to do. 

\------------------------

5 days and 19 hours of sleep later William had done it. He’d just walked out of the last house of the last person who had witnessed Spiderman’s identity with their signature in hand. 

It hadn’t been easy to come up with official confidentiality agreements off of the government's radar, but he’d done it. Now, if anyone would spill any information about the masked hero’s identity before the hero himself made it public, they would be fined and penalized. 

_“It’s a matter of security”_ he had explained, _“We consider him an undercover member of our team and, after 2 years of loyal service, we don’t need the enemies he’s made attacking his family.”_

Most people had agreed easily. Saying that they would gladly protect their hero. Those people had been the type to give their signature as well as phone numbers. They had said that, if there was anything the spiderman needed, the police could reach out and they would help their hero in any way necessary. These people listed their ranged specialties and abilities and the list of powerful people who could aid the Spider became quite extensive. 

Others had taken a bit more convincing. A lot of legality and a little blackmail had been required, but it had gotten the job done. They knew that revealing the identity of said hero before it was released publicly would harm their reputation and pocket quite immensely. 

If the national government had known what he’d done, they hadn’t said anything. But William was almost positive they wouldn’t be able to trace it back to Spiderman. The hero was never explicitly mentioned and the paperwork only mentioned an ‘undercover law enforcement agent’. 

William sighed as he pulled out his list one last time to cross out the final name. Now, each and every person in that alley had sworn to keep the hero's identity a secret. He could rest easy now, knowing that the man who had saved his daughter’s life was once again protected. 

He deserved a cheeseburger. A cheeseburger and a nap.


	8. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is based off of what would have happened if May had not been blipped. Most of the fanfics I’ve read seem to have her remarry a crappy dude and put Peter into an abusive situation. I disagree. I think that May had been married to Ben for so many years that she had high standards. I think that she would have found a high quality family and a high quality life. I also think that Peter has dealt with enough trauma inducing situations. He needs a good home situation to help him cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have gotten a tad carried away with this story. But I figured you wouldn’t mind. Enjoy!

Peter couldn’t do it. 

He had stopped a speeding car and fought alongside literal gods. He had carried the infinity gauntlet in his hands and had won in the battle against Thanos. He was one of the most powerful beings on earth. 

Why couldn’t he knock on a door? 

Peter’s sure he had been standing there for several minutes. Sure his hand had raised a couple times, and maybe he had started to walk away a couple times as well. Still, he kept coming back to this same spot: frozen on the welcome mat unable to do anything. 

The door started jiggling. 

“Yeah dad, I’ll be back in an hour,” a muffled voice called as the door stilled. This was Peter’s last chance, if he wanted to run this was his last opportunity. 

“Love you, too,” the muffled voice called again as the door swung open and he was discovered. 

The figure paused. It was a boy around his age, maybe a year or so older. He had blond hair and was muscled enough that he was probably a sports player. But that wasn’t what Peter was noticing. What Peter was noticing was the figure behind the teen: a woman with familiar brown hair and round glasses. A woman whose eyes mirrored his own shocked expression. 

“May?” he quivered as tears started forming in his eyes. 

“Peter?” she whispered back as if she’d seen a ghost. 

The blond teen looked towards Peter again with a newly shocked expression. It was clear he knew who Peter was, but Peter didn’t care. Because there was May, in a new apartment with a new family and a new life. But she remembered him. 

It wasn’t as if Peter had expected her to forget. Of course she couldn’t forget. But maybe she didn’t want him. Peter was a part of her old life, a part that she had never chosen in the first place. She was probably relieved to be done with the responsibility of caring for him. He was a handful after all. He ate too much and got injured too much and his extracurriculars were always a strain on her mental health. She seemed happy here. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled, though he didn’t know what for. 

“Oh, Peter!” May sighed, wiping the tears from her face as she strode forward to embrace him. 

Peter was snapped out of his revelry then and realized he couldn’t stand living one more second without a hug from May. Even if she didn’t want him anymore, he was selfish and needed to be held. Tony had died just a few days ago and the entire life he knew had just been ripped away. He had traveled through space and time only to find that he couldn’t protect the few people he loved. 

He ran towards her and the two collided in a messy and teary hug in the middle of a strangers living room. Well, Peter supposed, in the middle of May’s new family’s living room. He could feel their stares but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be held; he needed to be loved. 

They stayed there for what felt like hours, soaking each other in. Occasionally muttering things to each other but knowing that words were not necessary. It wasn’t until Peter’s nerves had stopped trembling that his super-hearing was able to kick in again and he heard another heartbeat. Another heartbeat inside May. 

He lept back. “You’re pregnant!” he exclaimed with tears still shining down his cheeks. 

“You’re pregnant?” asked the boy that had been standing by the door this whole time. 

“I’m pregnant,” agreed May as she leaned back from hugging Peter to look at the blond haired teen, “and I believe introductions are in order. Peter, this is Tyler. Tyler, this is Peter.” 

“Nice to meet you, Peter,” the teen replied with a nod of his head. 

“And this is Jay, my husband,” May continued, nodding to a man in the kitchen that Peter hadn’t noticed. 

“Nice to finally meet you, Peter.” 

“And our other sons, Tommy and Liam.” 

“Nice to meet you,” the boys mumbled together. The boys appeared to be twins and both had the same dirty blond hair as their father. They seemed to be around middle school and were staring at Peter as if he were a science experiment that needed to be solved. 

“Nice to meet you all,” Peter responded, rising shakily to his feet and attempting to wipe the tears off his face. 

They all just stood there, staring at each other. Peter wondered if he should leave. Peter was sure Pepper would take him back in if he asked, but she would be so disappointed after all the work they had gone through to locate May James, née Parker. He shifted his gaze to the still open door before shifting to the floor to locate his backpack. He had imposed too much already, he should-- 

“Tyler, would you mind postponing your practice tonight? And Liam, could you and Tommy set two extra places on the table?” She stood up, too. Making sure to adjust her shirt so it lay unwrinkled. Before Peter could move far though, she turned back and engulfed him in another hug. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she mumbled into his hair. 

The door closed and Peter watched as the boy, Tyler, grabbed his sports bag from the floor and made his way down a previously unseen hallway. This apartment was significantly bigger than the one he and May had shared. He could already see a full living room, kitchen, and dining room. Then, if the hallway was anything to go by, the apartment must also have multiple bedrooms. This Jay man seemed quite well off. 

As if thinking his name had spurred Jay into action the man walked across the room and picked up Peter’s bag.

“Can I take your bag for you Peter?” he asked. 

Peter nodded.

“May and I hoped you’d come home,” Jay continued, “so we started revamping my office to be a part-time room. Nothing fancy yet. It’s just a blow-up mattress and some bland sheets. May got your old stuff out of storage and we placed some of your posters on the wall again. We’ll go to the store and get some more personalized items tomorrow but, for now, let’s just have some dinner and get to know each other. I hope you don’t mind soup?” 

Peter was overwhelmed. He had a room? May kept his stuff? He was going shopping tomorrow? Does that mean he was allowed to stay? 

“I made some cherry pie as well,” May cut in. “The boys definitely helped but I know it’s your favorite. We’ve been waiting to eat it till you came home. I swear, the boys haven’t been so excited in their whole lives.” 

At this Peter teared up again. “Does this mean I’m allowed to stay?” 

“Oh, Peter,” Aunt May said as she embraced Peter once more. At this rate Peter doubted he’d be able to separate from his Aunt for more than a minute. “We wouldn’t want you anywhere else.” 

“Dinner’s ready!” called out one of the twins as he reentered the living room. “Can we eat please?” 

Peter smiled as he finally separated himself from his Aunt. He still felt as if a magnetic force was pulling them together, like he was only whole when locked in her motherly embrace. But he fought against it. He had to make a good impression. 

The family immediately found their spots at the large, dining room table. Peter was surprised that the spot left open was one in between the twins. He had assumed the family would have had assigned seats like he, May, and Ben had. It was weird to be so central at the table. 

“The boys couldn’t decide who got to sit next to you. They’re all so excited to have a new older brother,” May disclosed, answering the question that Peter hadn’t yet voiced. He hadn’t wanted to be separated from May but, as soon as he took his seat, he felt May’s foot settle on top of his under the table. Clearly she had been in a similar predicament and Peter couldn’t even be upset. He was simply glad she had been placed across from him. 

Peter smiled. 

“So Peter!” started the twin on his left. Peter wished he could remember the boy’s name, but had been too overwhelmed to take in which was Tommy and which was Liam. He had to pay better attention. “May said that you like legos.” 

“That’s right,” Peter responded.

“Well Tommy and I got a new lego rocket ship that we’re putting together. It’s over a thousand pieces and is super difficult! You should help us with it after dinner!” 

Liam then. Liam on the left. He could handle that. “I’d love to,” he smiled at the boy. 

“Yes!” The two boys said in a unison that made Peter chuckle. 

“We’ve organized the pieces as best as we can but we got the set from one of Tyler’s friends so all of the pieces were just dumped into a bag and we have to find what to use,” said the twin on his right, Tommy. 

“Right now we’re looking for this black, flat, one-piece. The instructions say there’s two of them but we can’t find either of them!” 

“We might have to give it back soon,” commented Tyler from across the table. “My friend was giving it away because it belonged to his younger brother who blipped. But his younger brother’s back now so he might be wanting that set soon.”

“Awe! But it’s so cool!” 

“Then,” interrupted May in her calming motherly tone, “you’ll just have to finish it soon. I’m sure you two would only have displayed it after construction. So it works out that you’ll have someone to give it to once you’re done.” 

“But we wanted to play with it too!” 

“Maybe” continued May, “we could have the boy over sometime and all play with it together before giving it back? I’m sure the boy probably needs more friends anyways, since most of his are probably Tyler’s age now.” 

“That’s a weird thought,” acknowledged Tyler from across the table. 

The family seemed so used to conversing across the dinner table and Peter was unaware of how he should fit himself in. The day had been so emotionally draining that Peter didn’t feel he had the strength to join in on their fast paced familial bonding. His ribs were also starting to act up again. He had broken 6 of them during the Battle of Earth and the few days he had stayed with Pepper had clearly not been enough for them to heal. Regardless, he had to try to make a good impression. 

“Do you know how many people in my grade blipped?” Peter asked and the table fell silent. 

“Peter, most people in your grade didn’t blip. A ton of freshman and juniors got blipped but the sophomore class remained mostly untouched. Ned blipped, though, so your best friend should be with you when you reenter school.” 

“You went to Midtown, right?” asked Tyler from across the table. 

“Yeah, got a scholarship there.” 

“That’s a pretty intense school. Not the best baseball team but I know a couple guys there and they’re like, crazy smart.” 

“It’s a science school. That’s pretty much all we do.” 

“Still, you might have to help me out from time to time. We had this crazy bio quiz the other day and I’m pretty sure I didn’t do so hot.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jay, the teen’s father, responded from the other side of the table, “you studied hard for that quiz.” 

“Well, studying only gets you so far. If you’re not smart, too bad.” 

At this May stepped in. “Regardless of the grade you get, your father and I will be proud of you. We don’t care what your grade is so long as we know you’ve tried your hardest. You studied for hours and that shows your dedication. That’s what we really care about. Who cares about some silly letter?” 

Peter smiled. May had given him the same lecture plenty of times before. He excelled in science, sure, but the English and creative thinking fields often seemed impossible. 

“Well, school doesn’t think that. And if my grade dips too low they won’t let me play on the team.” 

“I can help,” Peter interjected. “I’m sure my school for this semester is cancelled anyways so it’ll help keep my brain active.” 

“Thanks dude,” Tyler said while reaching across the table to give Peter a fist bump. Peter responded back with a full on smile now. Maybe being a part of this family wouldn’t be so hard after all. 

\-----------------

Peter had been lying in bed for about 2 hours now but every time he closed his eyes he was haunted by images of the battle. He would see the never ending army of monsters that fell upon him while he was carrying the gauntlet, he would see the ground exploding around him as an array of blasters shot from the sky--and worst of all--he would see Tony’s burned, unresponsive body after his head had lolled to the side. 

The Battle for Earth had happened not 5 days ago and Peter had been unconscious for 2 of those days. Ever since then, however, Peter was unable to sleep without nightmares of the past. Peter was determined not to wake his new family with sounds of his panic. Pepper had put up with it but what if his new family realized what a nuisance he was? Plus, May probably worked a morning shift so Peter couldn’t wake her up, he just couldn’t. 

Peter stood up from his mattress on the floor and made his way to the living room. If he was going to pull an all-nighter, he might as well be productive. 

He grabbed his new Stark computer, courtesy of Pepper, as well as his charger and tiptoed his way to the main room. He needed some paper to write down his thoughts on and figured May would have a sudoku book around here somewhere. There would for sure be a pencil there. 

When he rounded the corner, though, he was surprised to find Tyler still up. The teen was sitting hunched at the dining room table surrounded by his computer and several sheets of paper. 

“What are you still doing up?” asked Tyler as he took out his headphones and glanced over to where Peter was standing. 

“Couldn’t sleep. You?” 

“Chem test. Just because the world suddenly redoubles in population doesn’t mean we get a day off of school.” 

“Need help?” he offered shyly. Sure, the teen had asked for his help earlier, but he was still older than Peter was and could have just been making Peter feel better about himself. 

"Please!” Tyler sighed as he slumped over in his chair. “The test is tomorrow and I honestly can’t even decipher half the questions on here.” 

“I took the class as a freshman so don’t judge if I’ve forgotten everything by now.” 

And that’s how they spent the next few hours. Peter attempted to explain as simply as he could, but his brain often whirred so fast he missed pivotal steps. Tyler laughed it off and was glad to have Peter by his side nonetheless. Peter even learned a few things. Apparently, there were several new elements to the periodic table. At first, scientists had just added these elements to the known periodic table, though now, they were considering creating a new one altogether. 

Peter had been amazed, and around 3am the discussion rolled from strictly test related content to a more personal conversation. 

“But, if we create a new table, will we need to create a table for each alien world we encounter? And if so, how will we know what elements came from what planets?” Peter asked, now laying on the floor and sketching out ideas on the multitude of papers surrounding him. 

“I say we make a separate periodic table just for alien elements. That way we don’t have to worry about offending any planet.” Tyler responded from his spot on the couch. 

“But then how do we classify what comes from what planet? Does the planet it originated from make a difference in the atomic structure?” 

“I don’t know, but my brain is hurting right now. Why can’t they just say ‘this is a super strong element’ and ‘this is a slightly weaker element’ and label it that way?” 

“Because different elements are used for different things! Iron is super strong, sure, but ask it to light up a sign and it’s useless. You need fluorine for that.” 

“Just label the elements for what they’re for then.” 

“But each element can be used for multiple things. Take helium for example, should you call it ‘balloon filler upper’, ‘cold ice maker’, ‘voice changer’? It’s simpler just to call it helium.” 

“Well then call the names something cooler than. Like badassium. Stark was on a role when he created that.” 

Flashes of Tony Stark’s dead form flitted across Peter’s vision and his pencil stilled from it’s rapid succession across the page. Tyler looked over. 

“Was it something I said?” 

“No, it’s just--I, uh,” Peter paused and Tyler waited, “I had an internship with Mr. Stark last--5 years ago. And, well, he was always so proud of that element.”

Tyler sat up. “May mentioned you interned at Stark Industries, but I didn’t realize that meant you actually worked with Tony Stark.”

“He’s dead now.” 

“Yeah, I heard it on the news. They say he’s a hero. The story’s pretty insane, though. I don’t know which version to believe.” 

“He used the infinity stones to destroy Thanos.” 

“How’d you know that?” 

“I--” Peter paused again. “I stayed with Mrs. Potts for a few days after--after the fight. I didn’t know where you guys had moved to and it took us a while to find you again.” 

“May said she sent word to the new renters. We also posted on social media.” 

“We found you through social media.”

“I’m glad you found us.” 

Peter didn’t know what to think about that so he just stayed silent. He had only met the guy a few hours ago. Were they supposed to be brothers or cousins? May had never adopted him and he didn’t call her mom. But Peter couldn't deny that May was the closest thing he had to a mother. And now here she was. With a family she legally married into and three boys she could call her sons with no governmental qualms. 

Peter wouldn’t be surprised if Tyler resented him for the sole reason of stealing May’s attention. Why could Tyler possibly be glad that he had found them? 

Peter stayed silent. 

“Were you close to the Stark family then?” 

Peter shrugged.

“Did you work with Tony Stark a lot?” 

Peter nodded. 

“How often?” 

“A couple times a week.” 

Silence again. 

“This must be hard for you.” 

Peter didn’t think that statement needed a response. 

“I know that this might be overwhelming. Losing someone and then being forced into a new family. But, just remember that you were always a part of our family, even when you were still blipped. May would talk about you a lot and we almost feel like we know you by now. We’re sorry if we’re too pushy, we know that you just met us a few hours ago. Just know that-- well-- I’m glad to have finally met you, Peter.” 

Peter looked up then, making tear filled eye contact with a guy who might just be a brother. “Thank you.” 

Tyler nodded and they just looked at each other for a while, acknowledging the other’s pain and confusion and sharing a moment that Peter could only describe as familial. It only lasted a few seconds, but did more to make Peter trust the jock than words ever could. 

“Well,” Tyler announced as he stood up from the couch with a stretch, “I’m beat. Coach cancelled morning practice tomorrow so I’m lucky on that end. But I still have school tomorrow so need to get whatever precious sleep I can get.”

“I’ll be following shortly,” Peter responded with a wave to his papers. 

“Don’t stay up too late.” 

“What are you, my mother?” Peter teased back. 

“Shut up,” he responded as he picked up a pillow and chucked it at Peter. 

“Night mom,” he whisper-yelled back as the teen walked towards the hallway, getting him the finger in response. 

Peter chuckled as he looked down at the notes around him. There were so many new elements to research and movies to catch up on. He also had to start researching nanotech because the tech that Peter currently possesses was 5 years outdated. Peter knew there was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. 

Something Peter was thankful for as his nightmares were waiting every time he closed his eyes. Peter didn’t want his new family to experience that tonight. 

\-----------------

“Good morning, Peter,” May announced as she walked into the adjoining kitchen with a smile on her face. 

“‘Morning Aunt May,” Peter responded as he looked up from his nest of notes. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked as she pushed a few buttons on the Keurig. Peter normally couldn’t talk to May before her first chug of coffee. It was weird to see her so chipper. 

“Not yet. You?” 

“Me neither. I swear I checked on you every hour to make sure you were really here.” 

“I’m still here, May.” 

“I love you.” 

At this Peter stood up and hopped out from the papers that encircled him. He walked over to May and hugged her fiercely. “I love you too,” he responded. His ribs were killing him after May’s endless squeezing from yesterday but Peter decided he needed hugs more than he needed to breathe. 

“Morning Peter,” Jay sang as he walked into the kitchen, smiling as he passed his wife. “I normally make the boys eggs and toast in the morning. How do you like yours?” 

“Any way so long as there’s a lot of them.” 

Jay just laughed at that. “May told me about your eating habits so I bought two extra cartons of eggs just for you. And if you eat through it don’t worry, we can always buy more.” 

“Thank you sir,” Peter muffled with his head still tucked against May’s embrace. 

“And no more of this ‘sir’ business. It’s Jay, please.” 

“Thanks, Jay.” 

“You’re very welcome. Now if you want to visit any of your friends today, Peter, you’re more than welcome to it. Some of the public transportation has been slower recently due to fewer people manning the trains and fewer people using them. So just be sure to look up the times beforehand. Either that or I could drive you on my way to work this morning.” 

“Or,” May butted in, “you could stay home all day with me. I asked for the day off and they said they could give me the day, but I had to switch it for a night shift.” 

“She works too much. Tell her that, won’t you Peter?” 

“I’m not about to give up on my life just because you make a lot of money, Jay.” 

“I know,” Jay sighed, walking up to the two of them with a spatula in hand, “which is one of the reasons I love you.” He tilted May’s face towards him and gave her a peck before returning to the eggs on the stove. “Doesn’t mean I want to see you work yourself rampant, though.” 

Peter was shocked. It was the first time he had seen May with anyone since Ben. He knew that it had been seven years since Ben had died and five years since she had lost Peter. He was lucky that May had found someone to help her put the pieces of her life back together. Jay seemed like a really genuine guy. And rich too, if the space and the view in the apartment were any indicators. It was just hard to see May with anyone besides Ben. 

May smiled and kissed Peter’s head, oblivious to the turmoil that was going on inside. 

A commotion could be heard in the bedroom hallway as two figures raced into the living space. 

“Peter’s missing!” yelled Liam as he slid straight into May. 

“He’s gone!” echoed Tommy as he rounded the corner. Tommy noticed Peter first though and paused his tirade to go and give Peter a hug. Liam followed and soon Peter was engulfed by three people.

“We thought you were dead!” Liam responded as he grabbed Peter’s jacket and shook it in a dramatic fashion.

“Well clearly I’m not,” he chuckled as he untangled himself from their embrace and tousled their hair simultaneously. Peter noticed his middle school label might have been incorrect. The twins were tall, sure, but as soon as he glanced at their giddy expressions he could tell that they were younger. 

The taller one was Liam. He came up to Peter’s chin and was who he guessed was the oldest of the twins. As he glanced down into Liam’s eyes he could see a mischievous spark that signified he was the ringleader.

Tommy was also tall, but his height only came up to Peter’s shoulder. His eyes also seemed alight with mischief, but in a different way. While Liam’s mischief was contagious and bright, Tommy’s was subtle. Tommy’s mischief reminded Peter of MJ right before she asked an all too knowing question. 

“We’ve got the lego kit!” Liam said eagerly, drawing Peter out of his revelry. Peter just smiled. “Mom said that we had to finish it quickly, so we need your help.” 

“Lead the way,” Peter laughed as he opened his hand to indicate that he would follow the boys. He looked back at May before rounding the corner and she smiled encouragingly, clearly glad that her boys were all getting along. 

With Peter’s help the boys brought their box of legos into the living room and Peter moved his papers aside. Tommy brought out the lego blanket and Liam dumped the pieces onto the gray fabric.

“What piece do we need to find first?” Peter pondered while flipping open the lego instructions. The boys had clearly indicated which steps they had done by putting a pencil mark by each completed step and, as Peter flipped through the book, noticed that they were stuck at finding a small, thin, black piece. 

The team went to work. 

At some point during their endeavour Tyler had stumbled into the kitchen with a yawn wide enough to catch flies and May had moved to the couch to observe. Peter was engrossed in his search though, only half paying attention to the world around him. The gray blanket underneath him often blended into the darker colors of the rocket, which made finding one small piece in this array near impossible. If Peter didn’t know any better, he would think that--

BANG 

A crash boomed nearby causing Peter to flash back to when hellfire rained down during the Battle of Earth. Suddenly he was no longer in the living room, he was on the ground surrounded by Thanos’ minions with nothing but the screams and the cacophony of battle in his ears. He had to save the kids, they were innocent in all this. If death were to rain from the sky he needed to cover them. 

Within those few seconds Peter had leaped across the lego set and thrown himself over the two twins. His breathing had accelerated into battle mode and his eyes darted around the room in search of any threat. 

“Peter,” a voice called from somewhere far away. He was still there, in the battle, with screams were so loud that they were filling his head and echoing until he could no longer here himself think and-- 

“Peter,” there it was again. This time it was louder. It sounded like May’s voice. Like she was nearby to calm him down and--and then he was back in the new apartment. He felt the warm touch of May’s hand on his back as he scrambled away from the cowering boys beneath him. 

“I’m so sorry. I just--” What did Peter just do? Why had he acted like that? Peter knew that he was no longer in battle. The people here were his family. The boys had been at a lego set, May had been on a couch, Jay had been making breakfast. 

Tyler had just been getting out a new pan for bacon. 

Ashamed Peter knew he had gone mental over the sound of a pan clanging against another pan. He had pushed Liam and Tommy to the ground for pete’s sake. What was wrong with him? Why was he this messed up? 

“I’m sorry,” Peter repeated again and stood as fast as he could, heading to his room. He had to leave. Why couldn’t he be normal? The screams of the battle hadn’t yet managed to leave his consciousness and he couldn’t stand being there for one more second. He needed air, he had to breathe. 

“Peter, Peter come here!” May’s voice called out as it followed him down the hall. 

Peter didn’t answer as he opened up his suitcase to grab his Spidersuit on instinct. He had to flee. 

The zipper jammed and Peter yanked on it so hard that the metal snapped and Peter no longer had a way of opening and closing the bag. He reached to shake it, and maybe tear it open, only to feel the calming touch of May on his back once more. 

He turned around, vision blurry with tears. Had he been crying? 

“Oh, Peter,” May sighed as she pulled him into her embrace once more. He lost it and sobbed. The flashes of the battle raged behind closed eyelids and he couldn’t take it anymore. He was screwed up, he wasn’t whole anymore. Thanos was dead, so why did Peter still feel haunted? Peter had been out of the hospital for a few weeks now, the nurses had given him the all clear so long as he watched his ribs. So why was he crying? Why couldn’t he stop his body from shaking? Why could he still hear the screams from a few days ago as if they were happening in the room next door? Why? Why? Why? 

Peter wept. 

A few hours and an eternity later, Peter’s tears had dried out. He felt like a shell of who he once was and his ribs would definitely need reexamination. But he simply sat there, wondering why in the world he couldn’t keep it together. He sat there and listened to the two hearts beating inside May. He sat there and wondered what was wrong with him. He shouldn’t have been crying. He was surrounded by people who loved him and were caring for him. He had escaped the battle zone and he was a hero. Why had he been crying? 

“Want to talk about it?” May asks as she runs her fingers through his hair. 

“When do you want me to leave?” he responded back. 

This caused May to stiffen and pull Peter away from her by his shoulders “Leave?” she seemed to shout. 

“Leave.” Peter mumbled. “I know that this wasn’t what you expected. I’m not--” Peter paused for a second looking down at the floor and wishing Aunt May had kept him in her embrace, “--I’m not whole anymore. I’m broken. I’m not your Peter anymore.” 

Now it was May’s turn to cry and her eyes seemed to well up even before Peter was finished talking. “Oh Peter,” she started, “please don’t ever think that. You are like a son to me and I don’t ever want you to leave again! I don’t care how broken you think you are. You could be a 3,000 piece puzzle and I’d still help you put the pieces back together.” 

“You hate puzzles.” Peter whispered. 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“What if the pieces don’t fit together anymore? What if they create something different altogether?” 

“Then I’ll probably like it even better than before.” 

Peter sighed and returned to her embrace, sighing as May stroked his hair. Her words hadn’t completely squashed Peter’s fear, but had calmed him for now.

“I think I have PTSD,” Peter acknowledged, head still turned away from May as he was trapped in a hug. 

“From what?” 

“Thanos,” Peter responded and May’s silence was acknowledgement enough. 

\-----------------

Peter decided that he liked Tyler. Peter had never been friends with a jock before and worried that his brother would fall into the same bully tendencies that Peter often witnessed on television. Midtown high had no jocks that were Tyler’s size and Peter allowed his fear of the unknown to take over. 

Turns out though, that Tyler was a huge star wars fan and had a collection of memorabilia that rivaled his own. Tyler was also loyal to a fault and spent every second he could with his family and friends. He was a senior and looking into universities right now. He hoped to get a baseball scholarship wherever he attends but doesn’t know what he would want to study yet. 

Tyler also enjoyed late nights, which was problematic for someone with morning practices. His sleep schedule would consist of sleep between the hours of 2 and 6am, then a long nap when he returned from school. Lately, though, he had been staying up later to be with Peter. 

Peter knew Tyler was aware he wasn’t sleeping--he was pretty sure everyone in the house knew by now. It was common knowledge that he stayed up late with Tyler and it was also common knowledge that he would be up when May arose for her morning shift. His hearing had once picked up on May speaking her concerns to her husband. 

“He’s not sleeping,” May had said.

“You’re not sleeping either,” Jay had replied, “give him a break.” 

“I’m waking up every few hours to see if he’s still here, that doesn’t mean I’m not sleeping.” 

“He’ll have to sleep eventually.” 

Peter had put on the Stark ear plugs then. He would forever be grateful for Tony’s consideration in their design. They were made with two settings: one that blacked out all sound altogether, the second that blocked out all sound except that within a 8 foot radius.

When Peter was still living with May at the small apartment in cheapside, they had helped Peter avoid listening to the couple having sex two floors below him while simultaneously having dinner with May. They had also calmed several sensory overloads before they’d escalated into full blown attacks. Last night, they had helped May keep her privacy.

“You ok, dude?” Tyler asked as his show switched to ads and he started to channel surf. Why the family kept cable was beyond Peter’s imagination, but the family seemed to enjoy the surfing as much as the watching so Peter didn’t feel as though he had the right to complain. 

“Just can’t figure out this stupid equation.” 

“What are you working on now?” 

“Nanotech. I still don’t understand the remorphing process. I get how they are supposed to break down into the small space and I also get how they know where to reform. I just don’t understand how they rejoin in multiple ways. Mr. Stark’s latest suit--” Peter paused, realizing that there would be no more. This wasn’t the latest, there could never be another. He swallowed past the lump that rose in his throat before continuing, “--Mr. Stark’s last suit was able to morph into knives and shields and cannons and more. Is his suit polycentric then? And how did he assure that his armor would be without chinks. Theoretically speaking, the tech has only a 5/7 chance of correct interconnection. That’s not bad odds, but not decent enough that I’d want to bet my life on it. And--”

“Hold up. Iron man’s suit didn’t change.”

“Yeah, it did. He could take the nanotech from his leg and turn it into a knife on his arm, for example. The nanites that he used were multifunctional.” 

“That’s so weird. If it were anyone else telling me about this stuff I’d call BS.” 

“I’m not messing with you.” 

“Well I know you’re not. I’m just saying it sounds pretty otherworldly.” 

“It’s not alien tech either. The only alien tech we’ve intertwined with our own is chitauri and there’s no traces of that in the nanotech.” 

“You’re telling me that the tech Stark designed could change shape depending on what he wanted it to be.” 

“Yes.” 

“And it just exists in a teeny tiny container until called upon.” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s unreal.” 

“I promise you it’s real.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“Alright then,” Peter announced as he hopped up from his seat, grabbed his phone, and walked over to the door. 

“What are you doing, dude? It’s, like, 1am.” 

“You said you’d believe it when you saw it, let’s go see it.” 

“How would we go see it?” Tyler asked as he switched off the TV and reached into his bag to retrieve his wallet. 

“I have a job at Stark Industries. Remember?” 

“You had a job at Stark Industries. That was five years ago.” 

“I promise you I can still get in.” 

Tyler just shrugged. “If you say so. I’m too curious to let it go now. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” With that they walked out the door and towards the elevator. 

Peter opened his phone to text May where the two of them went. Before he clicked send though he looked to Tyler and added ‘Jay’ as a message receiver. The man may not be Peter’s father but he was Tyler’s; he deserved to receive notice on where his son had gone off too. 

“May and Jay know, we’re in the clear.” 

During their 5 minute walk to Stark Tower, Tyler had kept up small talk pretty well, talking about the drama within the show he had been watching and how his friends were readjusting to being home. Apparently Tyler wasn’t the only one gaining a sibling. Through the conversation, though, Peter could tell that Tyler was curious. He was wondering how Peter would pull off his entrance into the tower and how he would gain access to the famous Iron Man suits. 

By the time they arrived Peter could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He hadn’t been inside Stark Tower since the blip. He knew Pepper still owned the building, but he also knew that the family no longer lived here. Would Tony’s lab still be there? Would his suits still be in the garage? What if he wasn’t allowed entry anymore? 

No time for fear now; Peter stepped through the doors. 

The tower was surprisingly busy for 1am. Peter had known theoretically that Stark Industries was the forefront in blip rehabilitation, he just didn’t realize how much manpower it would take to rearrange an entire world. There were lines of families and individuals waiting to talk to an employee, and even more employees behind the scene making copies and reentering individuals into their database. If this was the chaos still ensuing at 1am, Peter couldn’t bear to think about the chaos that occurred during the day. 

Peter walked over to the security guard. 

“Stark Industries isn’t allowing guests. If you want to talk to an employee you’ll have to wait in line like everyone else,” the guard intoned as soon as he noticed two teens walking in his direction. 

“Actually, I’m an employee,” Peter responded hesitantly. 

“Employee, huh?” The guard guffawed. Peter tried his best not to be insulted. “Well then, Mr. Employee, step into FRIDAY’s scanner and see if she lets you pass.”

Peter did just that and couldn’t help but smile as the AI’s familiar signature overlaid his body with blue light. 

“Scan complete. Welcome back, Peter.” Peter smiled as he heard the ever present voice of Mr. Stark’s AI. 

The guard’s posture stiffened at that and his eyes seemed to widen out of their sockets. “Does your friend work here as well?” he asked as his eyes flitted to Tyler. This time, his question was genuine. 

“No, but I have clearance to accept a guest,” 

In response, the AI’s blue grid scanned the teen behind Peter and announced, “Tyler James. Age 18. Senior at Washington Public. Approved for entry.”

Tyler smiled as his eyes widened. He seemed enthralled by the AI and Peter knew the feeling. For now though, he wanted to get away from the crowd and up to Tony’s lab. He knew that, if he stayed here too long, he might chicken out and Peter wanted to overcome this hurdle while he could. Maybe seeing this memory of Tony might help him to say goodbye. Maybe he might be able to sleep. 

“Come on,” he gestured to his friend as he walked through the now open security gate and towards Tony’s personal elevator. There were no buttons on the outside but that was alright with Peter. FRIDAY always knew when he was around and opened up the elevator on cue. 

Tyler’s smile hadn’t managed to disappear by the time they entered the elevator and Peter couldn’t help but equate Tyler’s excitement to Ned’s. The first time Peter had allowed him access to Stark tower Ned had been nearly vibrating in place and had been asking Peter questions for hours: how FRIDAY worked, how the elevator could function without buttons, how many floors were on the tower and what Peter’s level was. Tyler, on the other hand, seemed to just be taking it all in silently. His eyes darted over every crease and crevice in the room and he had even done a 360 degree turn before stepping into the elevator. 

“Lab please, FRIDAY.” Peter asked as there were no buttons inside the elevator either. 

“Boss isn’t here today,” FRIDAY replied in a neutral tone. 

“I know FRIDAY.” 

“Boss isn’t here.” FRIDAY repeated in a sad tone. 

“I know.” 

The elevator started and Peter could feel Tyler’s questioning stare as they moved upwards. 

Within a few seconds, they arrived at their destination and the doors opened wide to reveal a familiar sight. The tables seemed just as cluttered as Peter remembered and there was still a burn mark on the bench from the time Peter had accidentally sautered something incorrectly. The tacky ironman poster still adorned the wall, much to Peppers chagrin, and the iron man suits in the corner were--as usual--the first to light up as the lab turned on.

They seemed to glow like a light at the end of the tunnel, like a beacon of hope. Peter looked at Mark 50, the suit that Peter himself had been allowed to modify. Then he looked towards the other six and noticed multiple new versions. The version that Peter was the most drawn to was an empty mannequin with what appeared to be an arc reactor attached to its chest. 

Peter moved towards the suits while the rest of the lights were still turning on. He was determined to think about the problem that needed to be solved, instead of the echoing emptiness of the lab. Peter reached the mannequin and gave it a quick once over before pressing the center of the reactor and commencing the nanite sequence. They seemed to flood over the body in an outwards ripple that flipped up and then relatched itself into a familiar iron design. It truly was amazing to watch. 

“FRIDAY, open up the blueprints for Mark--” Peter looked at the side of the suit where he was sure the numbers could be located. “--Mark 84”. 

In the center of the room the table lit up with projections and Tony’s plans. Peter knew that the plans would be incomplete and half done as Tony’s brain normally went haywire during the design process. He preferred to test on a trial basis and, as such, often found the formula and neglected to write how said formula was implemented or how he came to a conclusion. 

Yet, Peter knew how to decode Stark’s thoughts. He had filled in a few of the blueprints himself and prided himself with the ability to read Tony’s complex and experimental formulas. Especially since the finished product was always perfect, so all Peter had to do was take that and back up step by step to figure out how Stark arrived at his conclusion. As Peter pulled the holographic suit appart he couldn’t help but glance through the design and towards the door, where Tyler was still standing. 

“Holy crap!” the teen exclaimed as he raced towards where Peter was standing, “Holy crap! This is the Ironman suit! These are all Ironman’s suits. How? What? Why?” Tyler then turned his attention to the back wall and looked over all the displayed suits. 

“I told you I worked with Mr. Stark,” Peter replied with a slight grin on his face. He didn’t get to show many people just how closely he got to interact with his mentor. He’d forgotten just how fun it was to show off. 

“Yeah but I didn’t realize it meant you got to work on the Ironman suits!” 

“I helped make some modifications here and there.” 

“You legit fixed the suit!” 

“Mark 50 was my baby. We played around with the repulsor technology a bit more in that one and started toying with the concept of nanotech together. It was the only way we’d have been able to fit the big cannons onto the small space. Otherwise the shape would be too bulky. It was either to use nanotech or to employ the ‘detachable weapons on a satellite’ idea from Mark 48. But that might take up valuable time in a fight so we started playing around with nanotech together. It had been operational for about two months by the time the battle against Thanos happened. I guess it wasn’t good enough, but that’s why I’ve got to keep working.” 

At this Tyler turned around. Peter was still fiddling with the holographic blueprints but his mood seemed more suppressed than before. “Peter, you know it’s not your fault that he’s dead. Right?” 

Peter didn’t respond. 

Tyler walked over to where his step-brother stood, only to see that the boy had tears in his eyes. “It’s not your fault that he’s dead.” 

“You know we had the gauntlet off of Thanos?” 

“What?” Tyler seemed taken aback. How could his brother have possibly interacted with Thanos? 

“On Titan. We had gotten the gauntlet off. It took all six of us but we did it. Tony and I had been pulling and pulling but the alien chick put him into a sleep state so he wasn’t moving.” 

Peter paused then and Tyler just stood there in confusion, too in shock to stop and ask questions. 

“We had the gauntlet off but Thanos woke up and grabbed the gauntlet before we could get it any further away. If I had just been faster and had gotten the gantlet away sooner none of this would have happened. No one would have been blipped for years, Tony wouldn’t have had to sacrifice his life and--” Peter cut himself off as a sob ripped from his throat. 

“It’s not your fault, Peter,” Tyler comforted as he walked over to where Peter was standing and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tyler was used to comforting his brothers by pulling them into a bone crushing hug but Tyler assumed that Peter wouldn’t want that quite yet. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” Peter spluttered, “I could have stopped him. This whole thing is my fault!” 

“Did you snap your fingers?” 

“What?” 

“Did you snap your fingers?” 

“Well, no, but--” 

“Then you didn’t kill them.” 

“I could’ve stopped it!” 

“Doesn’t mean it’s your fault.” 

“Yes it does.” 

“Ok, let’s see here. So, um, last year my best friend got detention.” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked up through blurry eyes, clearly confused. 

“I know, I know. Just, bear with me, ok. He got detention and I went to baseball practice. After detention let out he started walking to the field but someone from the football team was tracking him. You see, my best friend didn’t really lose anyone in the snap, and the quarterback lost everyone. The quarterback had been looking for someone to take his rage out on and beat up my friend. He got two broken ribs and wasn’t able to play anymore games that season. Was it my fault that my friend got beat up?” 

“What? No, of course not.” 

“But I could have stopped it.” 

At this Peter’s eyebrows lifted a bit and he shifted his gaze back down to the blueprints. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Sure it is. I had the capabilities to stop that from happening. I knew that my friend was often targeted and knew that he had detention.” 

“But you didn’t beat up your friend.” 

“And you didn’t destroy half of all living things.” 

“When you can do the things I do--and you don’t--and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.” 

“So it’s my fault that my friend broke his ribs?” 

“You don’t have the same responsibility I do.” 

“Bullcrap.” 

At this Peter turned around and whipped Tyler’s hand off of his shoulder. He stood eye to eye with the jock and stood silent. 

“Bull. Crap.” Tyler responded again, not breaking eye contact with a man who, for some reason, felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“I have a responsibility to save lives, Tyler. A responsibility to this city and to this world.” 

“You’re 17.” 

“I’m Spiderman.” 

At this Peter looked stunned. As if he himself was shocked at the words he had said. He quickly shifted his gaze back to the blueprints as his newfound brother took in the words that had just escaped. 

“You’re Spiderman? You’re Spiderman?” At this his brain whirred back to all the signs he had missed. When May talked about how much Peter ate and her mention of how many times she had been with Peter in the hospital. The dirty ceiling when the boys had helped May move out of their apartment and the bag of Peter’s stuff that May refused to let anyone but his dad see. The panic attack that seemed an awful lot like PTSD and the sleepless nights as of late. Spiderman had just been in a battle to save the world. A battle against an unseen number of alien forces that never seemed to end. A battle that cost the life of his mentor. 

“You’re 17.” He repeated again as his vision refocused on the boy before him. “Spiderman has been a hero for over two years.” 

“I was bitten a couple months after I turned 15.” 

“Spiderman was 15?” 

Peter seemed to smile at that. A mirthful smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. 

“Listen to me Peter. You’ve done more good in your 17 years than most adults have done in their entire lives! You can’t let one failure define your life. It’s not your fault that Tony’s dead. I hardly know the guy but I’m sure he wouldn’t have joined the fight if he wasn’t willing to put it all on the line.”

“He had a family.” 

“And so do you.” 

At this, Peter’s smile crept into his eyes, “Yeah, maybe I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comic reference: The character Jay James is actually based off of the comics. In Earth 616, May remarries J. Jonah. Jameson Jr’s dad (Jay). However, since the Marvel universe has May being significantly younger, I thought that this coupling might be weird. I kept the origin of the name though and thought you might appreciate the easter egg. 
> 
> Comic Reference: Cherry Pie is Peter Parker’s favorite food.
> 
> Marvel reference: Did you know that Tony Stark went from Mark 50 in Infinity War to Mark 85 in Endgame? That’s 35 suits in 5 years, about a suit every other month. 
> 
> Marvel reference: “When you can do the things I do--and you don’t--and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”- is a direct quote from Homecoming.


	9. Go Fund Spiderman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this story is a little different than my other revealed stories but I wanted to write it anyways. It’s a story about the world realizing Spiderman isn’t the all powerful hero he often appears to be. Spiderman is poor. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY COW! 1,000 KUDOS!!! Guys, I’m floored! Thank you so much! Your comments and love mean the world to me and I’m so glad to be part of a fandom with such a dedicated fan base. Thanks again and hope you enjoy <3

_Spiderman leapt to the side as another bullet whizzed past his head._

_“Look, I know you're trying to stick to your guns here but this is just ridiculous. Return the money and we’ll call it even.”_

_“I don’t have to return anything,” the masked man yelled as he ignored the pun and placed a second hand on the grip of his pistol. “The government has been stealing the people’s money for years. It’s time we took some back.”_

_“That’s not the government’s money though--” the hero called as he simultaneously dodged a bullet and threw a nearby folder in the bullet’s path; blocking the bullet from hitting any of the surrounding civilians. It was an instantaneous move that displayed just how many years Spiderman had been protecting the city. “--that’s the people’s money. You’re not just stealing from a bank.”_

_“The bank has insured its people.”_

_“Not as much as you’d think.”_

_“It’s the government’s fault I’m in this position--” The man said as his gun created a series of holes in the wall behind a continuously moving Spiderman, “--the top tier people and their fancy cars. They steal money every day, under tables and behind closed doors. At least I’m honest about it.”_

_“That literally makes no sense, dude. What does your thievery have to do with billionaires?”_

_“I’ve got mouths to feed. They can cough up a couple hundred bucks so I can feed my family. I’m not an awful guy, Spiderman.” The man said as he recocked his gun and began another volley of unsuccessful shots._

_“You think you’re the only one trying to make ends meet?” Spiderman quipped back, causing the onslaught of bullets to pause._

_“God helps those who help themselves.”_

_“That’s not in the Bible. Come on, dude, if you’re going to pretend to be religious at least study up.”_

_“I’m up to my ears in debt, Spiderman,” the robber said as his eyes narrowed and his shoulders squared, “I need this money.”_

_“You and everyone else on this planet,” Spiderman grumbled as a bullet shattered the window behind him. “You think you’re the only one in debt?”_

_The masked robber looked as though he was about to reply but the friendly neighborhood hero continued, “And for the record, I’ve got bills too. I’ve got rent that’s only increasing and student debt coming out of my ears. I have a very high grocery bill due to my abilities and an even more expensive kid. Do you know how much diapers cost? It’s unheard of! If you want to rob a corporation, rob the diaper companies.”_

_The thief’s eyes widened under his ski-mask but he still managed to fire several more bullets at a hero who was crawling across the ceiling._

_“And then you’ve got gas and electricity and internet and water and all the ever present monthly bills to pay--” Spiderman continued. It was as if the hero had opened a dam of information. Once it started flowing there was no stopping the current of worry. “Do you know how many cold showers I’ve taken this month? I’ve lost count. And sure, I’d love to get one of the many video streaming apps, but that’s a no go. At this point, it looks like I may just be getting my wife a handwritten letter for our anniversary. Does that mean that I have the right to steal from other hard working American citizens?”_

_At this the hero finally paused. He had reached the ceiling directly above the robber and pounced, taking down his attacker with a speed only acquired after years of fighting crime. Within seconds Spiderman had his opponent webbed to the opposing wall and the offending gun in his hands. He unloaded the gun and heard the sounds of bullets hitting the floor before he tossed the gun away._

_“No,” Spiderman continued, answering his previous question, “it doesn’t give me the right to steal from others. Because others are probably working just as hard and struggling just as much as we are.”_

_With that, the hero turned around to face the crowd of civilians that had been trapped inside the bank- his attention shifting to the problems of others without a moment’s hesitation._

_The camera jostled then, and the lens flipped downward to point at a pair of blue jeans._

The video ended. 

The video was shaky and grainy and had obviously been taken by one of the terrified bank hostages. But the camera had been close to the action and every word could be heard like a deafening crash. A crash that was now echoing in the ears of over one million New Yorkers. 

The video had been up for less than a day and had already gone viral. It was number one on Youtube, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, and pretty much any social media site you could think of; by the next day it made it into several news stories too. People were shocked to find out that their beloved hero was struggling. 

They were shocked to find that a man who many would give their lives for couldn’t afford hot water. To find that the hero who could lift a bus spent his evenings lifting a child out of its crib. To find that a warrior who had been saving the world for just over ten years did at least some of that while attending school. 

There were comments of exclamation and comments of praise, comments of congratulations and comments of people attempting to relate to their favorite hero. 

There were also comments attempting to help. People saw a need and, therefore, tried to buy the spider family anniversary trips, extra diapers, baby toys, and more. Yet, with no identity to be found, the giving seemed to no avail. 

That is, until the ‘Go-fund-me’ page started up. 

The site assured that all money would be saved until Spiderman could be identified and that all proceeds would go directly to the newly unmasked hero. It was set in place by a well known nonprofit and was backed by several lawyers who confirmed how all proceeds would be legally accessible to only one individual: Spiderman. 

By the end of the week, the account had several thousand dollars. 

By the end of the month, the page had gone global and had several million dollars. 

Some people would share out of gratitude, others out of debt. Some would comment on a saved life, others the good role model the hero was setting. Some comments would be well written, others would be full of caps and extraneous letters. Some would be lusty and others heartfelt. Some provided a few cents, others provided a couple thousand at a time. 

After the month was over, a lawsuit was held in Spiderman’s name. This case ensured that 10% of any Spiderman profit would be donated into said account.

Many people joked that the site was bribery in order to unmask their favorite hero. Though, after a year passed without any identity reveals, it was clear that the hero could not be bought. 

What society didn’t realize was that the Spider family had indeed debated the idea. They had talked ad nauseum about what they could do with the money. Yet, with the safety of their daughter on the line, they decided such a dramatic gesture may be too rash. They agreed that this secret identity had kept the family safe thus far and would continue to do so in future. The money would not be worth the backlash of enemies knowing personal information and the possible praise wouldn’t be worth the limelight. 

Still, it was nice to have a backup. To know that, in case something drastic were to ever happen, they wouldn't have to rely on the charity of others to survive. That they had a quick monetary fix up their sleeve should a need ever arise. 

And if times ever got difficult--if the cold showers became too much and the candles didn’t provide enough light--the couple would hold each other close and dream about what they would do with the money once they retired. How they would laugh at these memories from some cruise ship and fan themselves with hundred dollar bills. 

After a year or so, the page had been nearly forgotten. The obscene amount of money was lying in wait for a day that seemed to never come. There were still transactions of course. And occasionally Spiderman would save a life and the grateful individual would say to him, “You know, I donated on your page!” 

The interaction was always stuttered and followed by hunched shoulders and too fast chuckles, but the hero would always smile and thank them. He would claim the money was unnecessary but he was grateful regardless. 

What the hero didn’t realize was that the site was almost therapeutic for those individuals, that they felt a sense of peace knowing they could, somehow, repay the debt they found themselves in. That someday, the hero would be rewarded for his actions. 

This day came sooner than expected and came in a form that no one had planned on. It came on the day when Spiderman was to be receiving the key to the city and it went like this. 

——————

“...everyone in this square has been impacted and affected by this man in some way, shape, or form. It would take years for everyone to fully describe just how much this man has impacted our collective lives and I, for one, am honoured to stand before you and present this award. Spiderman has saved my life on countless occasions and I know that this city, and this world for that matter, would not be the same without him. This Key represents more than just a block of metal, it represents our respect and admiration. It represents the trust we have in him and the love we have for him. Ladies and gentlemen, Spiderman!” 

With that announcement, the curtain opened and a familiar figure emerged. He fired a web into the crowd and caught a nearby building. He swung to and around the buildings of Time Square with the grace of a dancer and the crowd below seemed to crawl over each other in eager anticipation. 

With one final swing the hero did a flip and landed back where he began. He walked forward to the microphone pedestal and began to speak, “Thank you, New York! This is such an amazing opportunity and I can’t thank you enough. I appreciate you all so much and I’m happy to support the city in any way I can.” 

The crowd's constant murmur turned into a roar. The applause was so intense that the few citizens who weren't present for this christening were forced to reckon with the vigilante's support. 

Spiderman moved to take the key but the announcer faltered. He took the enormous key in his hands and turned away from the hero, took a couple steps backwards to the nearby curtains, and set the key down on the ground. The crowd seemed confused as the medal lay there, propped up by a flimsy curtain rod. 

“Before I give you this key, though--” the announcer disclosed as he walked towards the podium once more, “-- I want to impart a secret. The Key to the City isn’t really why we brought you here.” 

At this, the crowd finally went silent. It was clear that no one had been aware of this sudden shift and all were holding their breaths in collective anticipation. 

The announcer continued, “Spiderman, you already have access to the city, a key will do you no good. You are aware of our love and respect and how we will always open its doors to you, should you ever need it. You will receive the key today Spiderman, but that is not all--” 

With that the announcer gestured to the enclosed curtains behind him and six men in suits and backpacks came out from backstage. 

“--The true reason we brought you here today was to bring you the current extent of your Go-Fund-Me page. It is a page that has been running for one year, 2 months, and 3 days as of this moment. A page that was so graciously started by the Modest Needs Non Profit organization. Throughout its existence the page has made forty-five million, eight hundred and twenty-seven thousand, nine-hundred and two dollars and twenty-two cents. Each of the backpacks we have presented before you today contains one million dollars of that amount. 

“We’ve also disclosed where the money is being held as well as your account information inside one of these bags. And, if you need the rest of this money, we’ve also shared the name of some lawyers who may help you access this while still maintaining anonymity. 

“Your remaining money is still within this account and is continuously being added to through donations, merchandise sales, and interest. However, seeing as how you have not been able to withdraw any money from that account in quite some time, I figured you wanted a bit of untraceable cash for now. Forgive the secrecy Spiderman, but this is a lot of money and we needed secrecy to ensure we could get it here safely.” 

Times Square was more silent than it had ever been. Not one motor or crying child could be distinguished from the chaos that resided within everyone’s mind. It was as if the population was afraid to breath or spoil the illusion. 

Spiderman dropped to his knees. 

The city waited with baited breath. 

“Spiderman?” the announcer asked as he grabbed one of the microphones from his stand and walked over to the crouched figure, “Spiderman, are you alright?” 

He placed the microphone within hearing distance and sobs could be heard throughout the square. Their hero appeared to be shaking from the sheer amount of emotions wracking through his body and his breaths seemed to ripple like a flag in a storm. 

“Spiderman?” the announcer asked again as he immediately pulled the mic away, seemingly ashamed to have caught the man in such an uncompromising way. 

“Sorry,” the man whispered as he heaved his body back into a somewhat vertical state. “Sorry,” he repeated as he patted his eyes through his mask. The presenter leaned forward again with his microphone. “It’s just a bit overwhelming is all. I’ve never--I’ve never had this money before. I never assumed it would grow so much. My daughter needs to go to the dentist soon and my wife and I had been scrounging up money wherever we could. I just--” The hero cut himself off again as another silent sob wracked his body, “And she’s been begging for this new toy and I couldn’t give it to her and I--I felt like such a horrible father and--and--” the hero paused again as he tried to take the quiver from his voice. “Thank you.” 

One figure in the audience started applauding then. One lone figure whose slow and measured claps seemed to echo throughout the square. 

This cheer was joined by a second, a sound that merged and swelled with its predecessor in a beautiful chorus of appreciation. 

It wasn’t long before every figure in the audience had joined in on this serenade of thanks. The applause provided the rhythm and the cheers provided the melody. The whistles and shrieks provided the harmony and the noisemakers' staccato tune added the texture. The sound was deafening and was even joined by those who had been livestreaming the event. 

This went on for what seemed like hours as their masked hero worked hard to regain his composure. He simply sat there as he listened to their symphony: a beautiful orchestra created just for him. It was one that had friend and foe composing side by side and displayed just how loved he was. 

During the masterpiece their hero was forced to lift his mask ever so slightly in order to reach his hand underneath and wipe away tears. It was a gesture that displayed his chin and its slight hint of stubble, physically displaying the humanity of their favorite hero and only made the city applaud harder. 

After several more minutes had passed, the hero got back up. 

The crowd came to a hush. 

Spiderman took the mic from the still nearby presenter and began, “Thank you all. Thank you all so much. You have no idea what this means to me and I thank you so much for it. I don’t--I don’t know what I can possibly do with the charity you have provided me with but--I’ll do my best to treat it with the same care that I have treated you all with. I promise to not waste it or spend it on frivolous things. I promise to--to make you all proud. Thank you. Thank you all so much.” The end of Spiderman’s statement seemed to be cut short by a wave of uncontrolled emotion but the audience didn’t care, their applause continuing as their hero started walking towards his newly acquired bags. 

He started putting them on then; he placed two on his back and two on his front. He then took the remaining two bags and draped one across each arm. It was enough weight to have doomed any other man, but seemed to be a weight that their hero could bear. Before swinging away, though, the hero took one step back and held up his still open hands one more time. 

The announcer looked shocked. “We only have six million,” he stated. His eyebrows went up and his posture now looked stiff. 

“I don’t care about the money,” their hero claimed with a shrug, “that’s a good side benefit, yes, but I was really hoping to get a key to the city.” 

The crowd murmured amongst themselves as they realized what their hero was trying to say. That the money was nothing, it was the gratitude of the city that really mattered to him. It was the acknowledgement that they appreciated him and respected him that mattered. 

“I don’t think it’ll fit,” the announcer laughed as his posture relaxed. 

“It’ll fit,” the hero bantered back with a smile on his face. 

The announcer chuckled then and worked to tie the key in place between backpack straps and spandex. In the end, the key stuck up at an awkward angle and caused the audience to smile. It achieved its purpose, though, and was securely fastened for a journey swinging across the skyline. 

And as he swung between buildings, the friendly, neighborhood hero grasped tight onto the two physical reminders of just how much his city cared. 

The citizens of New York watched him leave and applauded, finally getting to thank their favourite hero. 

And so it was that Spiderman, the hero who had nothing, became a multimillionaire. 

——————  
Bonus Scene: 

The next week, every magazine had images of a familiar jaw lining their covers. The gossip magazines called it the sexiest jaw alive and the informational magazines were using it to try and gauge the hero’s identity. #spiderjaw was the biggest hashtag on Twitter and the memes were endless. 

It was clear that the public deemed their money well spent.


	10. Cramming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College student Peter Parker is pulling an all-night study session when he is suddenly pulled away for Spider-Man activity. What happens when he returns injured? How will his fellow college students react? And what happens when a worried Irondad enters the scene?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story has been laying unfinished on my google drive for over a year. I decided it was time this puppy got polished. Thanks to my wonderful beta @rapidasher. She's the best!

Peter Parker had never consumed this much Red Bull in his entire life. His metabolism made it impossible for the stuff to affect him for over an hour straight. So every hour, on the hour, he would chug another can and watch his classmates stare in horror at the suicide they assumed he was commiting. He didn’t have time to feign normalcy, he had an organic chemistry exam in 7 hours.

“Catalytic cracking,” quizzed Ethan from his spot across the booth, staring at the struggling study group as if he were a gameshow host waiting for a response. 

Peter had never struggled before. He read textbooks for fun and watched Ted Talks in his free time. He was good at school and had even been known to solve problems in his sleep. 

Except this test would have a significant portion dedicated to vocabulary. Vocabulary that was specific to this class and vocab that Peter had, on occasion, skipped due to Spider-Man business. Why couldn’t tests be conceptual? Peter could tell you all about how and why atoms moved or morphed. He just couldn’t remember this one specific term. 

“Catalytic cracking,” Ethan asked again. 

“Isn’t that something to do with gas?” Penny replied, glancing up from her nest of notes on the floor. 

“Yeah!” Ethan replied. “What about gas?” 

“How to make it? I don’t know.” 

“That’s it. According to our textbook it’s ‘the method for producing gasoline from heavy petroleum distillates’ but same thing.” 

Peter wanted to curl up in a ball and die. There was no way he would be able to memorize all these terms by tomorrow. By today! It was past midnight after all. 

“Laevorotatory,” Ethan asked, moving on. 

“A place to go to the bathroom?” Peter mused.

“Light going counterclockwise,” stated David as he looked up from perch on top of the table to peer at his friends, “and that’s not fair because Peter hasn’t learned that yet. We studied that the day he skipped, remember.” 

“Yeah, well, Dr. VanRiken isn’t going to give Peter any slack because he missed a lesson. So he’s got to learn it anyways.” 

“Ok, ok,” Peter interjected, trying to reign the conversation back in and continue cramming, “laevorotatory is light going counterclockwise? That’s easy, I’ll just think of a lavatory’s toilet spinning the opposite direction and badabing badaboom, we’ve aced the exam. Next term.” 

“Laevorotatory,” Ethan replied with a grin, “and it’s light, not water.” 

“Nuance.” 

“Nucleophile?” 

Sirens wailed in the distance. Not enough to be picked up on by any human ears, though, so Peter was determined to ignore it. 

“A pedephile, but into nuclear physics instead of kids?” 

“A substance which donates a pair of electrons in the reaction considered.” 

“A substance which donates a pair of electrons to the reaction.” 

“Right. Catalyst cracking?” 

The sirens wail intensified. Something serious was going down in the city. It didn’t matter, though, the police could handle it. That was their job. 

“Didn’t you just ask that term?” 

“Did you remember that term?” 

“Something to do with gas.” 

“What about gas?” 

“Water being turned into gas? I don’t remember.” 

“The method for producing gasoline from heavy petroleum distillates.” 

The siren’s wail was so loud that Peter was surprised his friends couldn’t hear it yet. Maybe it was the guilt weighing on Peter’s conscience, maybe it was the sheer amount of sirens. Regardless, Peter wished he couldn’t hear it and covered his ears. 

“Dude, you ok?” asked David as he glanced up from his computer across the table. 

“We can stop quizzing if you want,” Ethan stated, trying his best to be helpful. “Sometimes it’s best to just go over it yourself before someone else starts asking you about it.” 

There was a gunshot and Peter knew he had to go. With great power comes great responsibility. What if someone died because he wanted to ace a test? A life was not worth a few hours of studying. He had done his homework consistently throughout the semester. So what if he didn’t know a few terms?

He bolted upright. 

His classmates looked up from their chem filled haze.

“I’ve got to go,” Peter explained vaguely to their confused faces before he ran towards the door and hurtled out into the dark world beyond. 

The group watched until the door shut with a loud thud, then continued on with their studying. Sure, it was strange, but this was college; they had seen stranger things. Besides, they had studying to do. 

\------------

It was 5 am by the time Peter returned, and most of the group had finally returned to their rooms. David and Ethan were the only two that remained and neither even glanced up when a sweaty and dirt smeared Peter walked back into the room. 

“Dude, you good?” David asked as his classmate collapsed into the seat opposite him. 

“Catalyst cracking is the method for producing gasoline from heavy petroleum distillates,” Peter responded in return, “and nucleophile is a substance which donates a pair of electrons in the reaction.” 

“Yeah,” David said, slightly confused but shrugging it off before continuing the review. 

It went on like that for another hour, the trio quizzing each other and laughing at stupid ways of memorizing. They stressed together and prepared for the upcoming mind vomit of information.

The conversation didn’t even stray from chemistry until Ethan--whose foot was feeling the vents drip on his feet--started complaining. 

“What even is it with this school anyway?” Ethan snapped in mock fury. “We pay them so much and they can’t even afford proper AC.” 

“What do you mean?” David asked curiously as he looked at the vents above their spot in the booth. 

“Not the vents up there, the vents down beneath. My foot is soaked from all the water.” 

David laughed but, from his spot on top of the table, he was in no position to analyze the situation. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.” 

“You want to laugh, just take a look at my feet!” 

At this Peter laughed too. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “I don’t feel anything.” 

“Oh, fine. Hardy har har. I’ll show you just how upset I am.” 

As Ethan took off his shoe and slammed it on the table, whatever fury he may have experienced vanished in an instant. His shoe wasn’t covered in water. It was covered in blood. 

“Holy crap,” David whispered as the trio froze. They all seemed to come to the same gruesome realization at once and Ethan’s gaze flitted between his shoe and his sticky, red hand. The iron tang of blood filled the air and the shoe seemed to stare at them mockingly. 

After those few moments of panic, however, Ethan allowed his curiosity to get the best of him and he leapt from the booth as if his seat was on fire. As he bent down to get a better view underneath the booth, David jumped off as well.

Peter, on the other hand, did not move. 

When the two students looked underneath the table, they saw why. Peter Parker was the source of the blood. He was bleeding out before their very eyes. 

“What the frick!” yelled David as he saw just how much blood Peter had lost. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine! I just--I might need some sleep before the test. I’m going to head up to my room but could you all make sure to wake me up by 7:45 so I can be there on time?” 

Peter tried to get up but his pale pallor and blood loss finally caught up to him as he stumbled. 

“Peter, you’ve lost a lot of blood, man.” 

“I’m fine! Don’t sweat. I’ve been in worse situations. Trust me, I just need to sleep.” 

“Peter, you need to go to the hospital. I’ll call an ambulance.” 

“No! No. I’m good, I promise. Just, like, could you guys maybe clean up the blood? I can do it after the test if you guys don’t want to. I just know that whenever I bleed on carpet it tends to stain if I don’t handle it right away. And I’ve got to re-wrap this injury before I nap.” 

“How often do you bleed on carpet?” Ethan shouted.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Not that often! I just, you know, have heard that it can happen, not that it’s ever happened to me, I just, hypothetically, you know.” 

“What crap have you gotten yourself involved in Peter? We heard sirens earlier tonight. Was that because of you?” 

“No! I’m fine. I promise, I’ll explain it all in the morning! I’ve just, I’ve got to sleep. If you don’t want to clean it up in the morning I’ll figure it out tomorrow. The stain might not come out but I can just have Mr.--Mr.--my friend donate a new carpet to the school. I just need to sleep.” 

At this the two boys saw how exhausted their friend was. It wasn’t the normal type of exhaustion, the type that makes you want to sigh and vent to your friends for an hour straight. This was a bone tired, fall-asleep-and-never-get-back-up-again exhaustion. They would be surprised if Peter even made it back to his room at this rate. 

“Sure thing,” David said, knowing he wasn’t going to get anything out of his friend at this rate. He, unlike his peers, was taking O-Chem so that he could be a doctor. He was interested in the practical aspects in this course, not the hypothetical. And if the practical could tell him anything, it was that Peter Parker needed rest if he was going to heal. 

“Sure thing?” Ethan asked, astonished. “The guy shows up--after an abrupt exit, I should add--with a hole in his side the size of the Grand Canyon and you don’t want to know more!” Ethan was taking the class because he loved exploring the unknown possibilities of the world. He wanted answers. 

What Peter took this class for, though, would remain a secret. Because in the span of a few seconds, he had laid his head down on the table and fallen asleep. It was as if the acknowledgement of his exhaustion and his pain had finally reminded him of his human needs and induced him into his healing slumber. 

“What do we do?” asked Ethan. 

“We have to call the hospital,” David responded evenly. "He’s been bleeding too much and is going to need a transfusion." He opened up his phone only to remember it had died an hour ago due to his constant google searches. “Do you have your phone on you?” 

“Mine’s in my bag, but you can use Peter’s. It’s right on the table.” 

David knew he shouldn’t be using people’s phone without their permission, but he figured this was an exception. He swiped the phone to it’s emergency setting and was about to press the green button when another call popped up and he clicked answer instead. 

“Kid? Kid! Oh, thank god you answered. I saw the news. Why didn’t you call me? My Med Man and I are on the way, you just have to tell me your exact location so we don’t ransack the whole school looking for you. Kid? Where are you kid, I’m freaking out over here and you know I don’t say that too often.” 

That was Tony Stark. That was the Tony Stark, the billionaire. Why was he calling Peter? Was Peter his kid? How did he know Peter was in trouble? What did he mean ‘on the news’? David looked to Ethan for answers, only to find that his classmate was looking back just as confused. 

“Kid?” Tony Stark choked, panic lacing his voice. 

“This is David Stevenson,” the student replied, embracing his inner doctor and calming his voice to a neutral tone. “I’m a classmate of Peter. We were studying in the basement of our dorm--Kappa 5--when Peter fell unconscious. He seems to have lost a significant amount of blood and will need a blood transfusion. We’re calling the hospital now.” 

“No hospital!” cried Tony Stark over the phone in a tone that David would never have pictured coming from the calm and collected billionaire on TV. “My med droid and I will be there within two minutes. He won’t have time to go to the hospital. We need to operate on him now.” 

As if to emphasise his point, an exploding sound came from the nearby stairwell and a white drone that bore an uncanny resemblance to Iron Man jetted over to where they were standing. It scanned his body with a blue gridlike scan before moving onto Ethan and then Peter. 

Both boys stood stock still as the droid picked up their classmate and placed him on the table. The bluish ray emerged again and scanned the gaping hole from Peter’s side that was still gushing blood. 

“Is Med Man there?” asked Tony Stark, startling David and Ethan as both had forgotten Tony Stark’s presence via phone. 

“Yes,” David replied, “the droid arrived and moved Peter onto the table. It just sprayed the hole on his side with what might be a disinfectant spray and is taking out what appears to be stitching equipment.”

“I’ve just called his medic and she should be over soon as well. Do me a favor and make sure no one else can enter this basement. Keep it a restricted area until we can come in and fix him up.” 

“We can’t lock the doors without a key.” 

“Then bolt the doors shut or steal the key from the RA or do something. I did it enough times in my college years, you should be able to do it fine.” 

“Sir, we could just tell the RA that Peter’s in trouble.” 

“No. Just--just keep this to as few people as possible. Peter wouldn’t want anyone else to know.” 

“Well he’s kind of near dead right now, so I think what he wants is a moot point.” 

“He’s not dead yet.” 

“No, not yet.” 

The stairway erupted with noise again and the honest-to-God Iron Man exploded into their dorm basement. 

“Holy Toledo,” whispered Ethan, still frozen near his backpack. 

“How long has he been back?” questioned Tony Stark as his suit opened and the hero stepped out in one fluid motion. 

“Just over an hour,” replied David as he hung up the phone and continued his conversation in person. 

“An hour!” The hero repeated, obviously miffed. “What do you mean an hour?” 

“He ran out around 2 am and came back around 5. I don’t know for sure but we’ve been studying for a while. He didn’t seem hurt when he came back, so we only just realized he’s been bleeding out for the past hour.” 

“What happened?” Ethan exclaimed, panic lacing his tone. 

“Adrenaline, that’s what. Now have you all locked the doors yet?” 

“On it,” affirmed David as he turned and started to walk to the south entrance. 

“I’ve got north!” Ethan yelled as he ran in the opposite direction. 

As David reached the entrance, he kicked the rock that was propping the door in place, immediately locking the door behind him and denying entry to any unsuspecting students. He didn’t know how Ethan was going to lock the north doors, though, because they were fully functioning and only lockable by the janitors. 

“Do you need me to call an ambulance? How can I help?” David called as Ethan ran out the door, probably to find the extra key. 

“Run up to Peter’s room and grab his first aid kit. It’s behind his ramen supply on the bottom of his bookshelf. We’re going to need more wrapping by the time this piece of junk is done with him.” Mr. Stark replied, gesturing to his bot. His tone was casual and his posture seemed relaxed; this--combined with having a purpose again--helped settle David’s nerves. After all, if Tony Stark wasn’t panicking, neither should he. 

It wasn’t until David was halfway to Peter’s dorm that he realized Tony Stark had known intimate details about the setup of Peter’s room. It was shocking to dwell on the fact that a billionaire had known more about his friend’s ramen stash than he did. However, as he neared the entrance to his friend’s room, he pushed that fact aside. He flicked on the lights and started thumbing through the shelves till he reached the jackpot: a jumbo sized first aid kit that had the doctor in him wondering just how often his classmate needed medical supplies. 

As David raced down the front steps his brain entered a sort of tunnel vision. His focus dwindled to the next stair, and then the one following, on racing across the basement, then on handing the kit to the billionaire who had requested it. 

“Thanks, kid. How are things going with the open door?” 

“Ethan is probably getting a key right now.” 

“What classes does Peter have today? We’ll have to email his professors about his absence.” 

That caused David to hesitate. The upcoming midterm was worth 20% of their grade and was not able to be made up unless the student had expressed a conflict two weeks ago. Peter would not be thrilled about this turn of events. 

Seeing David’s pause, Iron Man continued, “It’s just O-chem and a bio lab, right?” 

“We have a huge exam today. Peter wouldn’t want to miss it.” 

“He’s a little out of sorts at the moment. I’m sure his professor will understand.” 

“You don’t know Dr. VanRiken. He’s a stickler.” 

“What time is this exam?” 

“8.” 

Tony Stark turned, paced, and mumbled a few choice words under his breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes in a parental sort of frustration. 

After a few minutes he turned back to the teen. With eyes still closed and tone almost hesitant he questioned, “Why was he out? What happened?” 

“I don’t know. A group of 5 of us were studying until suddenly Peter covered his ears, bugged out, and left the room.” 

Tony Stark seemed to be internalizing this information when the sound of approaching heel clicking interrupted his thoughts. They both glanced to the still open stairway as a well-dressed, stoic woman descended the steps.

“Where is he?” she demanded. 

David couldn’t help but gasp at the sight. Before him was Dr. Helen Cho. Standing before him was a world-renowned geneticist who had helped to create and perfect the regeneration cradle. She was a woman who had published the leading research on superhuman abilities. David had written several papers on her work. 

“Cho, he’s been here for over an hour already and he has lost a lot of blood. My medical droid has some of his on supply for when you need it but I don’t know if it’ll be enough.” 

Dr. Helen Cho began walking towards Peter while simultaneously grabbing David’s ragged jacket from the floor. 

“Why didn’t he go to your facilities, Stark?” 

“Beats me. I was only notified of his failing vitals when I asked his AI. He apparently told her to keep quiet.” 

Dr. Helen Cho zipped up the ratted university jacket around her and, from what David could tell, she planned to use it as makeshift scrubs. As much as David was aware of the situation’s severity, he couldn’t help but feel giddy that his idol was standing before him and using his jacket. 

“I’ll do what I can, Stark,” the world renowned doctor stated as she walked towards the booth. “Do you have his anesthesia?” 

\----

After watching Peter’s hour-long surgery David had observed several facts that could not be denied: 

1) Peter needed special anesthesia because his body wore through normal anesthesia too quickly. Something that should be impossible as the only other person to need tailored anesthesia was Captain America. 

2) Peter Parker’s bones had started to mend after an hour of sitting with his friends. Nothing too bad, but it was still healing at the rate that a broken bone could mend in a few days instead of a few weeks. 

3) Peter Parker’s doctor on call was world-renowned and focused on superhumans. 

The facts were adding up in a rather impossible way.

By the time Peter Parker was deemed ‘fit’ by Dr. Helen Cho, it was nearing 7:30 am. David looked towards Ethan, who had returned only 10 minutes after he did, and wondered if Ethan had reached his same conclusion. 

Ethan looked like he was about to throw up. 

“As soon as he’s ready he’ll have to donate more blood,” Dr. Helen Cho said as she removed David’s bloody jacket and the gloves that the medical drone had provided. “We used up the last of his supply tonight and I don’t feel comfortable going long without it.” 

“I’ll make sure to set up a time with the kid.” 

“Also, tell him to be more careful. He’s lucky I was awake and nearby. If not, your boy might be dead right now.”

David’s blood ran cold and Ethan genuinely turned green. Their classmate had been bleeding out before their eyes and they hadn’t even noticed. What if they had been minutes later in their discovery? Would Peter be dead?

“I will,” Tony Stark replied with a good natured smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks for coming on such short notice. I owe you.” 

“You owe me too many to count.” 

“I dread the day you collect.” 

Dr. Helen Cho smiled a small and relieved grin, transforming her face from a professional facade of calm into that of a relieved friend. “Take care of him?” 

“You know I will.” 

Dr. Helen Cho nodded in acknowledgement before turning around and exiting just as abruptly as she had entered, her heels clicking behind her as she exited the building. 

As if on cue, the figure on the table groaned. David didn’t know how his classmate was moving already. He shouldn’t have been up based on the sheer amount of anesthesia that had been injected into his veins. How was he awake? 

Tony Stark leaned against the table then, already being close enough to comfort Peter. He ran his fingers through the boy’s hair and his eyes softened just a fraction before he turned his attention back to the awe-struck onlookers. “You boys have an exam in 15 minutes.” 

That was not what David had been expecting. 

“With all due respect, sir, a life is more important than a couple points for class.” 

Peter groaned again and his eyes flitted behind closed eyelids. 

“Yes, but Peter is clearly alive now. You both should collect your books and start walking before your adrenaline runs out. You need to at least attend your midterm.” 

“Midterm!” shouted Peter as he bolted upright and started moving off the table. 

“Woah, kid!” drawled Tony Stark while moving to support the young adult. A move that was clearly necessary as not seconds after Peter landed upright he swayed to the side and leaned on the celebrity for support. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?” 

“Making sure you don’t die. Now come on. Rest.” 

“What time is it?” Peter near yelled as his eyes darted around in a desperate search for a nonexistent clock. 

“Time for you to rest.” 

“I have a midterm! Crap, I’m going to fail the class!” 

“You won’t fail. And even if you do, you know you can just take it again.” 

“But if I have to take this course again that messes up my plan and I’ll have to stay another semester and then I can’t get that job or take over anything and I’m so screwed and—” 

“Peter,” Tony Stark interrupted, “I can pay for an extra semester. Just take a break.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied, righting himself in a way that should not be possible moments after surgery, “but Ethan, David, and I have a test. I promise to take it easy for the rest of the day. I’ll even skip my lab in the evening even though today’s experiment sounds super cool.” 

Tony Stark’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t stop you, can I?” 

“Nope.” 

“And you’ll be sitting down for the entire exam?” 

“All 3 hours of it.” 

“Fine,” the billionaire exhaled as he returned to pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let me at least drive you to the science building, then.” 

“Thank you!” 

“And you are coming to the tower with me this weekend. No extracurriculars or college parties. Just a weekend sitting in the lab with me and watching corny movies. We will be relaxing and you will be healing.” 

“Deal.” 

Tony nodded towards the famous Iron Man suit that was still standing stoically in the corner of the dorm room. The suit closed itself up and came to life, walking fluidly towards where Peter Parker stood and picking him up bridal style. 

“Mr. Stark, I can walk.” 

“No, you can’t. You can sit and take a test but nothing else. Why you would want to take a test is beyond me. You're a strange kid.” 

“Yeah, but you love me.” 

“Yeah, kid, I do.” 

David and Ethan sat in the corner, both too confused to move. It was as if even breathing would shatter the illusion and they would wake up to a study-induced coma that had produced an onslaught of messed up dreams. 

“Wait! Turn around!” called Peter Parker as the suit reached the steps. “Aren’t you two coming?” 

“Heck yeah!” Ethan cried as if nothing was wrong, his green face of a few minutes ago completely forgotten. 

“Yeah,” David replied, a little more cautiously. While he was awed by the celebrity, he couldn’t shake the incomprehension from his mind. Peter shouldn’t be alive, he shouldn’t be this energetic. “Yeah,” he repeated, shaking his head and running to join the three on their trek up the steps. 

When they passed the lobby, the surrounding students gaped in open mouthed awe. Tony Stark winked at the group of girls near the printer and they all giggled. 

It was worse when they went outside. Tony Stark’s self-driving car had pulled itself up to the Kappa 5 curbside and a couple dozen students were openly ogling it, several recording it with their phones. As soon as the billionaire stepped out of the building the crowds turned their obsession towards the next best thing and the celebrity became their hub of attention. 

The Iron Man suit holding a smiling college student also acquired attention, but unlike the former playboy, this figure did not stop to sign autographs. It simply waited until the car door opened itself, then placed Peter inside the car. 

Peter rolled his eyes but it was clear from his strained expression that the jostling had, in fact, caused him pain. Regardless, he slid over and gestured for the other two students to enter the car, arms shaking slightly in the process. 

Ethan may or may not have squealed as he jumped into the middle seat. David frowned as he studied the shaking figure before him and sat gracefully on the edge. The door shut automatically and David could hear Tony Stark apologizing to the fans he didn’t get to meet as he made his way to the car and slid inside. 

“What building am I headed to?” Stark asked with a smile as his glasses glinted in the morning light. 

Peter rattled it off without a moment's hesitation as he turned to his peers. “I hope you have a pencil.” 

David pulled three out of his pocket. 

“Sweet!” Peter exclaimed yet, as he went to reach for one, he hissed in pain. 

David reached himself forward instead and placed the pencil into his hands. 

“So,” Ethan began slowly as he addressed one of the many elephants in the room, “how do you know Mr. Stark?” 

It was the man himself who answered, turning his body around and allowing the self-driving car to fulfill its purpose. “He’s my intern. He’s been with me since high school, actually. We’ve been keeping it pretty low key but, as of yesterday, he's the official heir to my company so his name’s public knowledge now. I figured we might as well come out with it ourselves.” 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter Parked exclaimed as he looked toward the multibillionaire with the same shocked expression that adorned the entire back seat. “I thought we weren’t announcing it till after college!” 

“I jumped the gun a bit.” 

“Why?” 

“The board started asking too many questions after the last meeting you attended. People were threatening to go public. I figured I’d go public first.” 

“But, am I going to still be allowed to graduate?” 

“Why wouldn’t you?” 

“Well, with meetings and--” 

Peter was cut off as an automated female voice came over the car’s speakers, “We have arrived and Peter and his classmates have five minutes to make it to their test on time.” 

“We’ll talk about it later, kid,” Tony Stark said with a smile as the both back doors opened and the Iron Man suit returned to its previous position, picking up the injured college student. “Mark 83 will stay with you as your bodyguard until you’re done with your exam and then it’ll take you to the dorm again, then straight to the tower. I don’t want you to be on campus when the paparazzi figure out your location.” 

“Is that why you made me promise to spend the weekend with you and ditch my last class today?” 

“Sue me, kid.” 

“Nah, I’m already inheriting enough from you anyways.” 

“Alright, cocky,” the hero scoffed as he leaned back in his seat, “just go up and get to your test already.” 

\-----------

The trio entered the classroom with seconds to spare, David and Ethan out of breath as the suit had rocketed up the steps that they had been forced to run up.  
Dr. VanRiken had only lifted an eyebrow before gesturing to their assigned seats. 

The rest of the student body, however, seemed rightfully awed by an Iron Man suit carrying their fellow classmate and placing him down into a desk seat. The class continued to stare as the suit marched its way out of the classroom, closing the door behind it as the second hand landed exactly on 8 o’clock. 

Later, Dr. VanRiken would claim that this was the worst exam he had ever seen and complain to the school board that they should have harsher rules banning distractions in the testing room. 

The board would respond by allowing a higher curve. This meant the highest grade would receive an A+ instead of an A, raising the percentages of their entire grade. 

An unfortunate necessity, given that David’s brain had been focusing on anything but chemistry for the entirety of the test. Instead of thinking about equations and vocabulary, his brain had strayed to heroes and injuries. It was clear to him that Peter Parker was no ordinary college student. 

And the next day, as he flipped through a magazine displaying Peter Parker as the most recent heir to Stark industries, he found a page describing the events of Spider-Man. Just a week ago the hero had taken a serious injury to his side and hadn’t been seen since. It was only then that David finally put all the pieces together. 

Peter Parker, heir to Stark Industries, was Spider-Man. 

He couldn’t help but be proud.


End file.
